The Upside of Amnesia
by orange-you-wonderful
Summary: Kaylie and Nicky wake up in 2014 and can't remember the last 4 years of their lives. The cherry on top? They're married.
1. 2014 And the world hasn't ended yet

**A/N: I got this idea months ago, but decided to write at least the first half of the story before publishing it so I wouldn't leave people waiting months for an update if I ran out of inspiration. Enjoy and please review.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: 2014. And the world hasn't ended yet**.

The first thing Kaylie notices is how bright the room is. The steady, warm sunlight that oozes softly from between the breeze-blown curtains is reflected everywhere by the white walls, white sheets, white covers, white carpet… and then it occurs to her that she doesn't recognize her surroundings, and that causes her a small measure of alarm. She throws her covers aside and attempts to raise herself off the plush bed but a stab of pain in her temple immediately sends her back down. Is she hung over? Why can't she remember last night?

A low moan erupts from somewhere beside her and she gasps, feeling her stomach turn over with dread. Oh no… not only is she hung over, she had a one-night stand! A quick flash of panic paralyzes her. She lost her virginity; likely to a strange boy she won't have any further contact with, in a night of alcohol-induced carelessness. Oh my God; did they use protection?

Before she's run any more nightmarish scenarios in her head for how positively downhill her life will be following this morning, a loud and obnoxious alarm disrupts the serene quiet of the room and the almost-forgotten source of the moan stirs beside her. All thoughts evaporate from her head, however, when she watches with horrified shock as her unidentified bedmate, shirtless, pushes his covers aside as well and sits up. Kaylie's heart stops. All the air seems to have been sucked from her lungs.

It's Nicky.

HOLY SH...

Well… maybe not. This boy looks exactly like him, but there is something odd that she notices despite the fact that she can't even breathe with how terrified she is with this discovery: his features are slightly more chiseled, and he has a hint of stubble on his chin and lower face. Does Nicky have an older brother?

The possibly-Nicky boy doesn't see her; he's still not fully awake, rubbing his eyes and groaning when he massages his temples. In a moment of distraction from her panic, Kaylie guesses he has the same piercing headache she does.

And then he turns to her, and the world dissolves around her for a split second.

"Kaylie?" She is immobilized with shock. She recognizes that voice, and there's no way someone else in the world has the same chin.

"Nicky?"

His mouth is agape with disbelief and he opens and closes it several times, inspecting the vicinity with the same dread and trepidation as she imagines she did.

Hesitantly, he turns to her again. "Why… do you look… old?"

Even through her headache and confusion, the words are out of her mouth before she can suppress them and think about what he's saying. "What do you mean old, idiot?" Then she frowns. Nicky looks older, so it makes sense she looks older too.

But why? Do copious amounts of alcohol age drinkers overnight? Is this a nightmare? An episode of the Twilight Zone?

"I meant _older_," he amends sheepishly, but her mind is already elsewhere.

"Where are we?" she asks, attempting to be rational first, and panic later over the likelihood that she slept with her former teammate.

He doesn't reply; instead, his features are overtaken by a new wave of alarm. "Did we have sex?"

Kaylie lowers her eyes to survey her attire, and groans. Shirtless Nicky + Kaylie clad in flimsy, moderately sensual nightgown that she's never seen before = Nicky and Kaylie had sex.

"I think we did," she moans, woefully burying her face in her hands.

There is a moment of silence that hangs in the tense, uncomfortable air between them before he speaks up. "We're probably at someone's house; there was probably a party going on and we got drunk. But I don't understand why you look different."

"Nicky," she mumbles, face still firmly covered by her hands, "touch your face."

She counts the seconds before he happily tells her, "oh my God; I have facial hair!"

"The point is," Kaylie looks up and sighs. "You look different too. Let's just go to the bathroom. I can see a door from here."

He agrees and they gingerly make their way to the softly-lit bathroom that is surprisingly far from their bed. Well, the whole room is enormous, and she just isn't used to having to take several steps to cross a bedroom.

They step in and once again are astonished to see their reflections.

"What the hell…" he murmurs lightly, hands running over his face in close study. Kaylie takes one look at herself and wants to go back to bed and sleep this hallucination away. Yes, she is marginally more attractive than before, now that it seems she's lost all her baby fat and all the muscles in her body seem to have leaned out considerably, but her face also looks different. Last night, in February of 2010, she looked one way, and now…

She gasps loudly and dashes to a calendar hung on the wall of the large bathroom. Nicky follows her and as they gape at the numbers displayed below a picture of them smiling, in an impossibly beautiful beach, only he finds the strength to voice what they deduce.

"Kaylie… it's 2014."

* * *

"What's the last thing you remember?" Nicky asks her after they conducted a hesitant search of the house they were in—or mansion, she should say, since it took them an hour to briefly explore 8 bedrooms—while leaving a whole other wing of the mansion unsearched. Nicky's theory that this house is owned by Bill Gates is shot down when they notice, unsettled, that all rooms have pictures of them. It wasn't just that one calendar.

They're both hungry so he's fished out some orange juice and bread from the impressive kitchen, and they're seated on stools facing each other on a large marble counter. They awkwardly noticed that some of the mail that's been left on this counter is addressed to "Kaylie Russo" and she inwardly cringed.

Pondering his question, Kaylie chews on a bite she took from a sweet peach. "It was the day after Valentine's Day… 2010…" She swallows hard, noticing the peach is now tasteless because her thoughts linger on the whole time difference issue. Her head still hurts and although she doesn't want to state what she's concluded from it all—because hello! It's impossible—she's convinced that her theory needs at least some consideration. While she continues to answer his question, she's also devising a proper way to voice the theory without being ridiculed. "I remember our awkward hug after… you know… that talk…" Now she's uncomfortable for other reasons. "The talk we had about kind of, sort of liking each other." She looks at the clean surface of the table and fights the knot in her stomach. She must find a way to exterminate these butterflies before they undo any more of her composure. Their attraction to each other is the last thing she should be thinking about.

He clears his throat and she looks up, meeting his gaze and noticing the slight blush creeping into his cheeks. "Yeah, I remember that, too."

"And then we practiced our bullfight routine that morning, because that magazine wanted to cover it," she continued, wincing when she felt another pang in her head. "And… we were doing backflips…"

Nicky nods, eyes wide. "Yeah… that's the last thing I remember. From the backflips straight to waking up this morning." He blushes again and she feels her face burn in acknowledgment of the part of his sentence he's leaving out: _waking up this morning next to you. In bed. Semi-naked._

The blood in their cheeks seems to revel in the tension between them. Kaylie still cannot push aside that first impression of looking beside her and seeing him, as well as all the pictures of them together; hugging, holding hands, and Jesus almighty, there's one of them kissing, and it looks like it was taken at a wedding. As in their wedding. That thought makes her eyes snap to her left hand. There's a ring. A discreet but brilliant diamond-encrusted golden band. When she raises her gaze to him, he's also looking at his hand.

"I can't believe we're married," he murmurs. "And you know, I really thought the world was going to end in 2012."

"Nicky, I have a theory," she boldly declares, standing up from her stool and breathing deeply. "I think we traveled to the future."

He doesn't skip a beat, deadpanning, "and I think that's impossible."

"How else do you explain this?" she demands heatedly. All the frustration stemming from not knowing what's happened to them and why leads to an outburst that she forgets Nicky doesn't deserve to hear. "Our last memories are from 4 years ago, and now we look older, and are married!"

Quietly, he settles his glass of orange juice down and hangs his head, looking more tired than she's ever seen him. "I don't know, Kaylie. And why would we be married to each other in the future?"

Abruptly, an idea pulls her from her anger and she grabs a small wireless phone hanging from the wall beside her, furiously dialing Payson's number. Each ring that goes unanswered heightens the urgency in her body with fear that maybe in this parallel reality they aren't friends, or maybe she changed her number, and—oh my God, maybe everyone changed their numbers and they won't be able to communicate with anyone! By the fourth ring Kaylie is hyperventilating. Nicky stands beside her and they exchange nervous looks before finally, the ringing stops, and they hear a familiar voice.

"Hello? Kaylie?"

Excitedly, Kaylie cries out, "Payson!" and then smiles at Nicky when he presses the "speaker" button. Payson's voice begins to reverberate in the kitchen, while Kaylie's eyes linger on Nicky's outstretched arm. His muscles are so taut and sharply-defined that they surprise her a little.

"Hey, Kaylie… are you ok?"

"Uh…" The question stumps both she and Nicky, who shrugs. Can they just say no, we're not; please save us from this nightmare, and be done with it? "Well…"

Taking a step closer to the phone, and standing distractingly close to her, Nicky asks, "Payson, can you come over? Do you know where we live?"

"Hey, Nicky," Kaylie immediately has to smooth down the flares of jealousy that erupt when she hears Payson say his name, even though her friend's voice doesn't waver, or betray any sort of suspicious emotion. But wait… it's 2014… Nicky is married to her… surely he and Payson are not having an affair or anything? Oh my God, is she secretly seeing Carter? "Of course I know. Your house is not that new." Payson's laughter snaps Kaylie out of the panicked questions flooding her mind. "You know what? Ike and I were going to LA to pick up some equipment for his office, so we'll pass by your house. Or we can eat out. What do you think?"

"Uh… we…" Nicky stammers. Clearly, he hadn't expected such a thorough reply to his request.

Wait. Who's Ike?

She pushes these questions aside as well and speaks up. "We'll be more than happy to receive you here. In the house. I mean, our house. Nicky's house—and mine." Kaylie wants to slap her forehead.

Her embarrassment turns to indignation, however, when Nicky whispers, "way to sound normal there, Cruz."

"Oh, and your stuttering was much better?" she hisses back, turning back to the phone after they exchange glares.

"Hello?" Payson calls out.

"Yes, Payson, please drop by," Kaylie amends pleasantly, and after a perky goodbye, hangs up.

Instantly, Nicky asks, "who's Ike?"

"I have no idea." They wordlessly survey each other's attire and nod an agreement to go upstairs to change, but Nicky halts midway through their climbing of the stairs. "What?" Kaylie inquires anxiously.

"She said they were going to LA, so they would pass by our house..." His murmur trails off and they look at each other resignedly at the discovery of yet another aspect of their life that they can't quite bring themselves to like. They live in LA now, and not Boulder.

* * *

"This is a bad idea," Nicky breathes, sounding almost strangled by anxiety. "A bad, bad idea."

They're standing by the house's main entrance—or at least, they're guessing it is, because it has the biggest door they've seen so far—and both are fidgeting as they watch a car pull into their enormous driveway. Neither is sure of whether they were expecting any other visitors for today, but hope the car belongs to Payson and not some person they won't recognize.

Kaylie hears Nicky exhale a sigh of relief that matches hers when a head of blond hair becomes visible through one of the car's open windows. She opens the door and waits expectantly as Payson makes her way to the doorway, followed a tall and lean boyish-looking man, and, unable to contain her happiness at seeing a familiar face—well, aside from Nicky—Kaylie immediately embraces her friend once she is at arm's reach.

Payson releases an easy-going laugh that betrays surprise and hugs her back, saying, "whoa Kaylie. I missed you too, since the last 48 hours I saw you." She also looks different; softer and seemingly more prone to smile. She's a lot more like her mother.

She moves in to hug Nicky, and he shoots Kaylie a wide-eyed look that Payson doesn't catch, but is not missed by the man Kaylie deduces is Ike.

"Hey... Ike...?" Her attempt to sound more certain of his identity fails, but Payson is already walking in, commenting on their magnificent decorations, and Nicky is shaking Ike's hand reluctantly before walking inside as well. Payson is very familiar with their home, because she and Ike are already en route to their kitchen. Kaylie stays behind with the premise of shutting the door, but pulls Nicky to remain there with her. "Nicky... I know you still like her—"

"Kaylie!" Nicky interrupts with a curt whisper. "Not the time!"

"Just act normal," she admonishes anyway, and he nods impatiently.

"Fine. And don't go around checking that guy out in front of everyone."

"_What_!" Their whispers are threatening to become louder so she pulls him by the arm towards the kitchen, where Payson is already brewing coffee and Ike is taking a seat outside in their yard.

"So, how have you guys been?"

"Okay," is Kaylie's simple response. She's balling her hands into fists, and when she leans back slightly, she feels her back press against Nicky's chest. She looks up over her shoulder, and they're both unsure of whether it'd be all right to tell Payson they don't remember anything that happened in the last 4 years. Payson, for her part, is happily serving them all coffee.

"Honey, I just got a call from one of the chairmen at the Olympic committee," Ike breaks the silence and with those words manages to attract Payson's full attention. "Can you give him a call? Here it is," he adds, and hands her a cellphone. Payson quickly grabs it and steps outside. Ike wastes no time in pulling them to the side and lowering his voice conspiratorially. "What happened yesterday?"

"What?" Nicky asks, mirroring Kaylie's own confusion.

"You called me? Told me about how you were training some old routine and ended up falling? Oh, you don't remember," Ike says, eyes widening suddenly. "What's your last memory?"

"What do you know about us?" Nicky prods on suspiciously.

"I know I'm just a student, but I will be finishing my doctorate's in neurology in 6 months," he explains apologetically, and Kaylie finds herself tired of not knowing what is going on.

"The last thing we remember is training for a routine together in 2010, just after Valentine's Day," she replies impatiently.

Ike seems submersed in thought, but then speaks up. "So you don't know who I am?"

"No, we don't know who you are," Nicky replies firmly, sounding annoyed. But then, as though she is listening to a high-pitched sound she can barely catch, Kaylie experiences a brief flash of recognition.

"_Who's that?" asked Lauren, pointing to a young man that had approached Payson with a large smile and garnered the shocked attention of seemingly everyone in the room._

"_Ike is here?" exclaimed a boy a few yards from their table. Kaylie's mind was still on Carter and how regretful she was to have come to this prom, attempting to partake in a world she didn't belong to._

"You cut your hair," Kaylie blurts out, and Ike smiles. "I can't believe I just remembered that."

"It all makes sense now," he assures them easily, standing in complete contrast to Kaylie and Nicky's tense frames. "The injury you sustained in 2010 from your car accident caused a fissure in the connective membrane located in your hippocampus. When you injured yourselves again, your conscious memory backtracked to that period. It all makes sense."

Kaylie blinks twice. "Are you listening to yourself? That didn't make any sense," she objects.

"What injuries are you talking about? Are we still in gymnastics?" Of course, leave it to Nicky to worry more about gymnastics than whether their heads were still functioning.

"Of course. My wife is Kaylie's coach."

"Who's your wife?" Nicky asks, then both she and Nicky immediately look at Payson as she paces their yard, clutching the cellphone and passionately arguing with whoever was on the other end. "Oh."

"What matters is that yes, you are still fit to train and your memory will return little by little."

Kaylie sighs and now Nicky seems truly impatient and frustrated. "Well, can we speed up this process?" he asks, running his fingers through his jet black hair. For some reason, Kaylie feels an impulse to take his hand and find a way to ease his anxiety, but immediately shakes it off. What the hell is she thinking?

Ike shakes his head adamantly. "You can't, and even if you could, it's better to let things flow in their natural course; let your brain recover at its own pace."

"At its own pace…" Nicky repeats, and Kaylie can feel the heat of his anger from where she's standing. "What if it takes years?"

"Can you think of anything else you can do?" is Ike's sensible, calm retort. He takes a step closer to them and continues to nod understandingly, a gesture that irritates Kaylie. "I will refer you to a doctor I know; my former teacher at Berkeley. He will probably suspend your training for another couple of months until all necessary tests are conducted—"

"Hold on a second," Kaylie interrupts. "What are we training for, exactly?"

"Well, Nicky is training for Nationals. But seeing as how you're already Olympic champions, I don't see how skipping one national championship can much affect your careers."

Olympic champions. She's an Olympic champion? Suddenly weak in the knees, Kaylie sits down in one of the stools. So she did go to the Olympics in 2012… what medal did she win? What medal did Nicky win, for that matter? She turns to him, but the news doesn't seem to have rocked him as severely as it did her. He looks thoughtful.

Wait; why isn't she training for Nationals? Ike only mentioned Nicky... is she too old now?

"I don't want to skip out on anything. Especially since this is a major competition. I assume I'm part of the National team?" Ike nods, taking a quick peek at Payson, still outside and pacing. "And this memory thing doesn't affect my body's coordination or muscle function?"

"If the injury is limited to the hippocampus, then no. But we can only be sure by conducting tests an—"

"We'll be fine," Nicky asserts gruffly. "We'll do what you told us, and I'm sure we'll remember, eventually."

"Remember what?" asks Payson suddenly, smiling as she makes her way from the patio entrance back to the marble counter.

"Oh, just…" Kaylie begins to answer, organizing the jumbled mess in her brain to come up with a good reply. "All these… commitments…"

"I'm glad your little vacation with your husband hasn't made you forget!" Payson pipes, all glistening hair and dimpled smile that makes Kaylie swallow hard. Part of her, one that feels distant and mute, is really not jealous at all, because she's married to Nicky, for crying out loud. But the Kaylie that isn't a faint presence in her mind is bothered by this. She's married to her best friend's guy… Payson had called dibs on this boy, and now she's married to him. And hadn't he liked her, too? Like, a lot? "Well, I have to go… I'm still doing some last-minute renovations to the Rock with Sasha so it'll be spanking new by next month. The committee is intent on supervising the pace of the construction." Kaylie has a feeling she should know what in the world Payson is talking about, but resigns herself to nod in agreement. "Tomorrow I'll be back, so we can start training again. Enjoy your last day!"

Payson and Ike are gone after another round of hugs and shaking hands, and after they shut the door, their strained smiles disappearing, Kaylie and Nicky relax.

"We're so screwed."

* * *

**:D Let me know how you think this first chapter went. I appreciate all input**.


	2. Is everyone a flesh eating zombie now?

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews, author/story alerts and favorites. I can't believe how positive the response has been for this story. I hope you all continue to enjoy it. This chapter is more exposition; next chapter will have more of Nicky's view on this. Please continue to review; I love reading what everyone has to say, and it really makes my day.**

* * *

They're walking through the house, pondering on Payson and Ike's recent visit, and figuring they need to know the way around this mansion after Nicky got lost trying to find a bathroom.

"What do we know?" Nicky asks, although Kaylie knows it's a rhetorical question. He'll start listing the answer to that in a minute. Wait—how does she know this again? "We know that we have a brain injury from 2010 and when we re-injured the same part of our brain yesterday, we forgot everything that happened between 2010 and now." How did she know?

"Do you get the feeling you know what I'm going to do?" she inserts quietly before he can list the next clue they've gathered. "Like... instinctively?"

They stop midway through a long, sunlight-bathed hallway in the second floor, lined with all sorts of gymnastics-related pictures of them. She tries not to look too hard at the ones that look like they're from the Olympics, because she knows she'll probably faint with excitement. They can focus on that later. For now, she glances at one in which she's midair after what she guesses is a Yurchenko on the vault, possibly in some year's Nationals competition.

"Yes." Nicky clears his throat because he sounds so raw suddenly. With this, he now has her full attention, and she watches him apprehensively. "Yes. And you know what's odd? Being close to you used to kind of... terrify me." He turns to her, and as he takes two steps closer to her, she feels herself back up against the wall. She wants to ask him what he's doing, but the words won't leave her and all she can manage is a confused frown. The proximity knocks the wind out of her lungs. "See? This doesn't scare me."

"Oh, it doesn't?" she squeaks.

However firmly he made his statement, it seems to waver when his gaze lingers on her for a long moment. It gives her an ill-advised opportunity to take a closer look at him. His eyes are still bright and she can see the beginning of his chest muscles peeking from his shirt. His hair is still hopelessly messy, and she has a strong hunch that she touches it all the time. She wants to touch it now. Or touch any part of his body, really, it's not important, as long as—stop it, Kaylie. She shakes her head clear.

Nicky lowers his eyes and she isn't sure whether he's looking at her body or the painfully small distance between them. "No, maybe it makes me a little nervous, but I'm..." then he trails off with a wince, and looks to the side, raising a hand to his temple. Two seconds later he recovers, and steps away from her. He clears his throat again, and Kaylie remains frozen in place. What's going on? "I think I remembered something." She raises her eyebrows expectantly. "We started dating before the Olympics."

"How early?"

"I don't know. We were in an elevator in a hotel in London, and there was a poster of us, with a subtitle saying something about the National champions and the American hope for gold, or something, and you asked me whether I was finally going to invest in some hair gel."

They trade smiles, despite of their earlier tension. "That sounds like something I'd say."

"Yeah. And then..." He hesitates. She doesn't want to press him for more details, but she's so curious she wants to punch the information out of him. "I kind of pressed the emergency button and... we..."

"Don't tell me we had sex in the elevator," Kaylie gasps. That would have been so classless of her.

He's alarmed by the suggestion. "No! Not that. We... kissed."

Her shoulders sag with relief, and she ignores the blood that rushed to her face. "Okay. So now we know sometime between 2010 and 2012, we started dating. I wonder when we actually got married..." Pursing her lips, she pushes herself gently off the wall she was still leaning on, and continues to walk down the hallway, when a flash of glistening gold catches her attention. Once again breathless, Kaylie impulsively grabs Nicky's hand and drags him inside of a large room filled with shelves, stands, and frames with uncountable trophies, medals, plaques, and every imaginable form of award she can think of.

"Holy crap. Our trophy room looks like that treasure cave from that Indiana Jones movie," Nicky comments, squeezing her hand before letting it go and walking to a glass box inside which are medals that upon closer examination, Kaylie finds are from the Olympics. There are seven gold medals, three silver, and two bronze... she's struck with an idea, and pulls Nicky out of the room, down the hallway to their bedroom.

Once inside, she hurriedly sits in front of a screen that's not large enough to be a TV, which she had previously deduced is probably a computer from 2014. There's no keyboard, no CPU... so she touches the screen and is welcomed to a slightly revamped Google homepage. Inwardly grinning at her ingenuity, she types, on a keyboard that emerged on the side of the screen, "2012 olympics kaylie nicky russo." Enter.

Instantly, the screen is filled with websites and pictures of their accomplishments, with headlines all centered on their astounding victories, and something about Nicky's surprise announcement at the men's medals ceremony. She clicks on a YouTube video link, and they are taken to a video titled "Kaylie Cruz – Event finals Olympics 2012." The next 10 minutes are enough to render her completely speechless and immobile. She won gold on beam, with leaps, jumps and saltos she's only attempted a few times, topped by a flawless 2 ½ twisting dismount whose landing was textbook perfect. Watching herself perform all this was surreal; she felt as though she were in a hazy dream. Her second gold was for her floor routine, in which all she could think about was how she managed to stick every single landing on every immensely difficult tumble—she planted her feet on the ground each time, and they didn't budge. She also won a silver on uneven bars and a bronze on vault, both exercises she never thought she'd once be even remotely skilled enough in to win an Olympic medal.

At the conclusion of the video, she finds that her mouth is incredibly dry and there's a bead of sweat that has formed on her forehead, which she quickly wipes away. Then she remembers Nicky is still behind her. Immediately, she clicks on a related link to a video of his own performances during the finals, but she isn't prepared to have yet another breathing problem watching him.

Nicky's power, precision, and speed are awe-inspiring. His movements on the pommel horse are so well-controlled and incredibly fast that Kaylie has to take a second look at the Nicky beside her, who is entranced by what he's seeing. He not only won gold on the horse, but also on the rings and the horizontal bars, with silvers on vault and parallel bars, and a bronze on floor.

An even bigger surprise is revealed when he gingerly presses his finger on another link, entitled "Kaylie and Nicky Russo win all-around."

Oh my God. They won the all-around gold. Oh my God. Her heart was going to give out on her.

The video is not what they expect, however; instead of showing their performances, it's actually a news segment from a gossip cable TV channel. There are numerous pictures of them on red carpets, as well as many candids of them in outings around town and their interactions in training sessions. Kaylie looks at the date—it was posted in August 2012, just after the Olympics. She brings her attention to the voice narrating the video.

"_Gymnastics golden duo Nicky Russo and Kaylie Cruz, after snagging the prestigious all-around gold medals last month at the Summer Olympics, have announced their engagement. The couple first revealed their relationship at the Olympics, amidst rumors of secret meetings at the Olympic village."_

There's what looks to be a candid, grainy photo of them leaning against a handrail, completely attired in US National Team uniforms. And of course they have sneaky, flirty smiles that understandably would have led the entire nation to think they were an item. Frankly, it's freaking her out how they don't look uncomfortable or... unhappy or whatever.

Crap. They look so _couply_.

Kaylie presses the mute button, unwilling to see or hear any more. "This has nothing to do with the Olympics."

"How'd they get so many pictures of us?" Nicky asks, looking genuinely fascinated by each picture in the slide show.

"Does that matter?" she huffs impatiently. "I wanted to see our performances, not..." then she pauses. "We revealed our relationship at the Olympics. How does a couple reveal their relationship in the middle of the Olympics?" The level of unprofessionalism astounds her, but Nicky ignores it completely and presses the unmute button.

"_Insiders reveal the two first met while training together in Boulder, Colorado, during their teenage years. When asked about Nicky Russo, Kaylie Cruz has expressed admiration for her fellow teammember in the past." _There was then a shot of her being interviewed in front of a large banner for Nationals in 2011. _"Ms. Cruz, what do you think about Nicky Russo, the men's champion?"_

The camera zoomed in on her face, and although Kaylie wants to notice how sweaty she still looked, or how her hair isn't perfectly in place as usual, all she can look at is the blush in her cheeks. Of course, maybe people thought all the blood that rushed to her face was from physical exertion, but Kaylie knows herself, and can read through her own miniscule smirk; she can tell she was hiding a secret. _"Nicky Russo is the most skilled gymnast I have ever seen. He makes it look easy. I think he deserved that medal and I'm very happy he will be in the National team when we all go to London."_

"Am I really the most skilled gymnast you've ever seen?" Nicky's voice breaks through her horrified reverie and she turns to him, still thinking about what she's seen. His sly, smug grin manages to melt her tense muscles. "I never knew."

"I like seeing your ego in display like this," she jabs with a smile. "It makes me feel in 2010 again." Kaylie presses her finger on another link, entitled "Nicky Russo interview 2013." She chuckles in the second it takes for the video to load. "I have a feeling this will be a good one..."

"_Nicky Russo, you are once again the men's national champion in gymnastics. How does that feel?"_

"_It feels great. I really have no words to describe what I'm feeling. I just know I'm very happy."_

"_How was having your wife Kaylie Cruz rooting for you, and have you considered retiring, as she did?"_

Kaylie shrieks. For five long seconds.

"OH MY GOD I RETIRED!" She's so loud that Nicky actually winces and she has a fleeting thought that maybe she shattered something, or the neighbors are going to call the cops.

Nicky's mouth hangs agape while they stare at each other with matching flabbergasted expressions.

"_Kaylie is... wonderful. Having her nearby was definitely a boost for me. Her support makes my career possible. I'm incredibly proud of all she's accomplished after her retirement from gymnastics. I don't think I'm ready yet to stop, but I have considered retiring, yes."_

Neither of them are looking at the screen, until Nicky wordlessly reaches behind her and presses a button that silences the video.

"I retired," Kaylie whispers. "I can't even remember what it felt like to win in the Olympics, and I'll never find out..."

"Maybe we'll remember it," Nicky proposes weakly.

"Or maybe we won't!" she exclaims, and stands up from her chair to pace laps around their room. "If I retired, then why is Payson my coach? What is she coaching me for? Am I making a comeback? I can't believe I retired. But that would explain the fact that I've grown two inches, and my boobs are actually kind of big now—shut up, I've seen you looking at them—and also, Ike said only you were training for Nationals. But then, wouldn't he know that I was making a comeback? Unless my comeback is not in this Nationals; maybe it's for next year. But next year I'll be 21, and I can't think of any gymnasts that retired and then started to compete again at that age. But maybe—"

"Kaylie, stop." Nicky places a steadying hand on her shoulder and that effectively fizzles out her hyper-active anxiety. "We'll figure this out. Give yourself some time. We don't know what's going on in our lives yet, but we'll find out. It hasn't even been a whole day since we woke up in this new life."

Something in his tone is incredibly soothing, and his warm touch makes her entire arm tingle. She sighs and sits down again, glancing out the window and noticing that it's already getting dark.

"Do you think we can take a walk?" she suggests in a mumble. "Our yard is like, enormous."

He nods his agreement and they head out, while Kaylie wonders if she'll wake up tomorrow and find out this was all a horrible dream. As they descend the stairs, Nicky suddenly grabs her hand and pulls her down to a crouch.

"What are you doin—"

He shushes her and silently motions her to stay put. Stealthily, he shuffles down the staircase and grabs a small but heavy-looking statue from one of their antique tables. "Who's there?" he barked, as Kaylie held her breath and realized she was biting her nails.

"Mr. Russo, I am sorry if I startled you," says a small, shrewd woman who looks to be in her late thirties, and is calmly emerging from the shadows. Why she's so calm when Nicky is threateningly holding a statue above his shoulder is beyond Kaylie's guess. "I was just tidying up some last things before retiring to my quarters."

"You're... our... maid," Nicky deduces haltingly, and Kaylie slowly stands up to join him in their large living room.

Kaylie can't think of anything she could possibly say to convince this woman that her employers haven't lost their minds. "Hi. We were just... we know you're our maid."

"Yeah. We know. I was just saying it. Like always." Nicky discreetly returns the statue to its place and smiles at the woman, embarrassed.

"Is there anything I can do for you before I go to my quarters?"

Kaylie wants to ask where her quarters are, and if she saw them splitting their heads open yesterday, but instead, she shakes her head with a tight, tense smile.

"We're just going for a walk," Nicky explains helpfully, probably hoping to repair the damage he's done by almost hitting her over the head with a statue. "We'll be back... in a few. Minutes."

"Not outside, I hope?" she asks, the small lines around her mouth accentuating her warm, if slightly confused smile.

"Uh..." Kaylie draws a blank. Yes, they're going outside. Outside the house. Did she mean outside their property? What's outside their gates? Is it like a movie, where a virus has been let loose in the world and now everyone is a flesh-eating zombie?

"No, of course not. Just a walk," Nicky assures easily. Tracking down her thought process and how it wandered off into sci-fi territory in a second, Kaylie has never felt more like a geek in her life. Why can't she be cool and composed like Nicky?

Ten minutes later they're running back inside.

"What the hell!" Kaylie is panting with the effort it took to run a panic-stricken mile and a half, which is way more demanding than her usual ten mile daily jog. Nicky stomps his way back to the house, too, having stayed behind to curse their followers out and also to lock their gates.

"Paparazzi," he breathes out with disgust. "What are we? Are we a big deal?"

How could they be a big deal? Hasn't it been two years since they won the Olympics? "Do you think it was this bad for Austin Tucker?"

"I don't know Austin Tucker."

"Me nei—" Kaylie begins to say, but the high-pitched whine inside her head is back and she winces.

"_I can't just hang out with you, Austin. We broke up less than a week ago."_

"_That seems like enough time to me." His sly smile and the scheming glint in his eye tell her that he's up to something. As always. "I just want to make sure we'll be good friends after this. We are friends, aren't we? Friends that can maintain self-control?"_

"_You know, last time you used that line we ended up making out in that closet by the pommel horse. What are you aiming at, really? We're not getting back together."_

"_Oh, that's the last thing in my mind. I'm not even attracted to you anymore."_

"_So I guess the staring has been your way of showing me that you've moved on?"_

"_And getting caught sleeping over at Nicky Russo's house is yours?"_

Kaylie opens her eyes and meets Nicky's expectant gaze. As she interprets her latest flashback, she's instantly sickened. Oh my God... she used to date Austin Tucker, the 2008 Olympic champion. Now she knows she definitely has a thing for gymnasts...

"So...?" Right. Nicky is understandably curious about what she's remembered. But Kaylie has to be smart about this... the timing doesn't feel right and come on—that bit of conversation isn't enough to convince her that she has to tell Nicky about her possible previous relationship with Tucker. Third, why does she have to report everything to him anyway?

"Oh, it was some random image..." She clears her throat pointedly and begins to climb the stairs. "I still don't get why we have paparazzi following us. Does this happen every time we step out?"

"I guess so," Nicky shrugs. "Maybe that's what our maid meant when she gave us that look after we told her we were going outside."

They've arrived in their bedroom, and when her eyes survey the impossibly inviting bed, Kaylie is reminded of how late it is, and how exhausting the day has been. When she turns to look at Nicky, he's not sharing her enthusiasm about the bed, and she quickly remembers that less than 24 hours ago, they were sleeping there together. As a married couple. Almost nude.

Suddenly, she isn't very much at ease either.

"I'm tired. I'll take that room by the trophy room," he mumbles uncomfortably.

Kaylie avoids his eyes. "Right. It has a nice view."

"Absolutely. I liked the view, too. And the bathroom seemed pretty big."

"Oh, yes. Very large. Love the decorations."

"Great colors."

With that, Nicky practically runs out of the bedroom and Kaylie is left to stare at the imaginary dust cloud he left behind in his hurry to get away from her.

Granted, she doesn't want to sleep with him, either, but she wasn't kicking him out. So he could have at least pretended to be somewhat disappointed that he wouldn't be sleeping with his wife—

WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING, Kaylie snaps.

Quickly, she showers, brushes her teeth, and settles into bed, careful to think about anything except Nicky. Because it seems that she can handle having forgotten four years worth of her life, and she can handle the fact that she doesn't even know whether her parents are still together, or what became of her brother. The only thing she cannot handle is Nicky.


	3. Your ex girlfriend is the Antichrist

**A/N:** **thanks again for all your support. I'm glad you guys are liking it and there are few things that brighten my day better than reading new reviews.**

* * *

CHAPTER 3: Your ex-girlfriend is the Antichrist

It's nine in the morning and Nicky is mindful of how silent and lonesome the house is now that Kaylie's left for the day, but he's still going over the events of the morning. He makes a mental note that he needs to not voice his immediate thoughts in the morning. Yesterday, he'd called her old. This morning, he'd mortified her.

"It feels weird..." Nicky had yawned, groggily sitting up after Kaylie had nudged him to consciousness. "To wake up without you next to me." Finally, he'd opened his eyes fully and seen a squeamish, thoroughly horrified Kaylie staring back. "Wait. What am I saying..."

Then everything had rushed back to him—the loss of memory, the awkwardness, his uncomfortable attraction to her, and yeah... clearly, not the most well-thought out thing he's ever said. But come on; that was his subconscious talking. In his right mind, it'd have been weird to wake up _with_ her next to him. And at least he hadn't voiced his second thought that morning, which was that she looked so hot with those short pajamas and messy hair and really long legs that he wanted to...

Great. Thanks to Kaylie, he was now a perv.

"Uh... you... we... work this morning. Bye," she'd stammered, and then he watched her run out. Very, very, quickly.

Later that morning, he'd opened the fridge to retrieve a carton of orange juice, distracted by just how weird the atmosphere at the kitchen was between he and Kaylie. He had guessed there'd be some awkwardness that morning during breakfast, especially since he'd gotten the impression that Kaylie hoped this was all a nightmare and they'd wake up and be "back to the past," or whatever geek fantasy she maintained, only to find out that another morning had crept up on them and they were still not back to 2010, and still didn't remember anything.

And he's had to do some adjusting as well, because he went to bed one night a single guy, a silver-medalist, and woke up the next morning breathing in Kaylie's flowery, entirely too enticing hair, with a freaking wedding band on his finger, and GODDAMN THERE ARE PICTURES OF THEM EVERYWHERE, EVEN ON THE FRIDGE.

Calmly, slowly, he'd shut the fridge, carton in hand, and noticed it again: Kaylie couldn't look at him. For whatever reason, she'd looked like being around him was causing her physical pain, and she was doing a very bad job of being casual about it and pretending like she was okay. Had she remembered something? Why couldn't she just tell him what's going on?

He'd sat down on the kitchen island across from her, and felt her eyes on him as he served them the orange juice and peeked at the waffles in the toaster. When he turned to her, however, she had quickly averted her eyes and suddenly looked fascinated by her cereal.

"Kaylie, you okay?" he had asked, with a frown.

Quickly, she'd nodded, but flinched with ill-hidden panic when he stretched his arm across the table to grab a spoon laying by her hand.

Suddenly, Nicky was fed up. "Kaylie, what's going on?"

She mumbled something in response that he didn't understand; when he opened his mouth to ask her to repeat, she cleared her throat and clarified, "nothing, Nicky."

"Why don't you just tell me what's making you look at me weird?" As though his words had sent a jolt of electricity through her, she immediately straightened, eyes widened.

"I wasn't looking at you. What would make you think I'd ever look at you? Or any of your body parts?"

Nicky had cocked his head to the side, frowning. "Huh?"

"It's..." She swallowed hard, nervously. "Nothing."

Something heavy and awkward hung in the air between them, and as maddening as her silence was, Nicky decided to wait. If she was that uncomfortable with something, she'd probably tell him. But then concern overtook him and he walked over to her, noticing she was desperately avoiding his gaze. He reached out to touch her shoulder, and as she was dodging him, abruptly she blurted out, "I've seen you naked!"

Immediately frozen in place, Nicky's mouth was agape. When did she see him naked?

"Uh... was it when I was showering? I'll try to lock the door better next ti—"

She quickly and breathlessly interrupted him, burying her face in her hands. "I dreamed we were having sex! Or rather, I remembered us. Having sex." She looked up from her interlaced fingers and shot him a shamed wince. "I'm so sorry. Every time I look at you, I... I think about you naked."

Why this came off to him as hilarious rather than shameful is beyond him, but he had tried not to overanalyze it. "Kaylie..." He'd bitten back the laughter that threatened to erupt from within, mindful of how embarrassed she was. And when he placed a hand on her shoulder, she jumped back.

"That's a bad idea," she whispered with horror. She cleared her throat again, breathing a little shallower than usual. "You touching me is a bad idea."

The rest of the breakfast was spent in silence, although Nicky was far more relaxed than Kaylie, who looked so tightly wound up that he wondered whether she even ate anything, or just poked her cereal around. Then a helicopter had landed in their yard, carrying a smiling Payson inside, and Kaylie left (presumably to work?).

There really was nothing he could do, Nicky thought with an inner smile. Sure, she was awfully uncomfortable around him now, but it would eventually wear off, right? She couldn't avoid him forever. Sooner or later they'd have to put on the act again that they were just a regular married couple, so no one would suspect that they were really winging it while juggling some possible brain damage. The last thing they needed was to be suspended from their respective careers.

God. He's married to Kaylie Cruz. He's married to that girl; the one everyone had a crush on at the Rock, the one all the other girls were measured against. And if she had gotten him to marry her when he was still in his early twenties, then she must have brainwashed him or whipped him because he'd grown up thinking marriage was something reserved for when he was in his thirties.

But he could have done worse, right? If he had woken up and found out he was now forever bound in marriage, till death did them part, to Lauren Tanner, then he'd probably have reacted differently to this. For one, he would have wanted to kill himself, then would have asked for a divorce (immediately), whereas with Kaylie, against his better judgment... well, he was curious. And he liked spending time with her—his life was always so stressful that in the weeks leading up to that awful Valentine's Day in 2010, she'd been his only reprieve. Having her nearby when he couldn't remember a quarter of his life was something to be thankful for.

So yeah, sue him, but he didn't mind this whole new life thing with Kaylie, because sometimes he had this strong, urgent feeling that he married her for a reason, and if he broke things off with her and then remembered what that reason was, he'd regret it.

It had been thirty minutes since she'd left, when the doorbell rang again and Nicky wondered whether there was another helicopter for him. Instead, he had to brush away his shock and joy when he opened the door and saw Sasha Belov on his doorstep.

"Sasha!"

"Ready to train, Nicky?" Unceremoniously, the coach stepped inside and began to walk towards that wing of the house that Nicky and Kaylie hadn't had the time and energy to explore. "I assume you haven't as much as stretched your muscles during your vacation with your wife."

Nervously, Nicky wanted to defend himself and tell his coach that yeah, he'd been training—hadn't he split his head again training with Kaylie? But that'd mean telling about the injury and the memory-loss and knowing Sasha, that would mean an immediately suspension of his training. Therefore, honesty was not an option.

"Well, it was a vacation..." he murmured instead.

"Very good! That's the spirit. I'm glad that after two years, Kaylie is finally teaching you about the non-gymnastics-related side of life." Nicky is sure his coach must be delirious; if he's a contender for winning Nationals, how can his coach be encouraging him not to train?

Wait a second. Two years? That's how long he and Kaylie have been married? So they married right after the Olympics? How old was he? Twenty? And she was eighteen?

Before Nicky really noticed, they were at the other wing of the house, which turned out to be a full-scale private gymnastics gym. In any other time, this would have astounded and excited him, but as it was, his mind was still reeling over his recent discovery about his marriage to Kaylie. He needed to tell her this.

"Sasha, before we start, can I make a phone call? It'll be quick," Nicky promised, and Sasha waved him away after asking whether it was Kaylie and Nicky didn't answer right away.

He noticed that there was a phone on the wall closest to the even bars, so he dashed there and in about a minute had learned to look for Kaylie's number.

A foreign voice picked up the call and Nicky heard, "Kaylie Russo' assistant, how can I help you Mr. Russo?"

Kaylie Russo... that combination of names was still so odd.

"I need to speak to Kaylie."

"Sure thing. Just a second." It was more like a hundred seconds, but eventually he heard Kaylie's tentative voice say a "hello" and his heart seemed to skip several beats—the reason for which he didn't want to examine.

"Kaylie, guess what."

"_Oh, hey Nicky. What?"_ She sounded several degrees more relaxed than she'd been only an hour ago, which was good news, right?

"We've been married for two years."

"_No way."_

"Yup."

"_That means we got married—"_

"Right after the Olympics."

"_I was eighteen. And you were what? Twenty?"_

"Oh, and Sasha is my coach!"

"_That's so great! How is he? How does he look? A lot older?"_

"No, he looks the same. Hey, so are you training for Nationals or something? Because you could just train here."

"_Nicky—"_

"That other part of the house that we never got to is actually a full-scale gym!"

"_You're kidding."_

"No! It has everything, and it's state-of-the-art. And it's huge."

"_That's great."_

"So what were you saying? Where are you, by the way?"

"_Nicky... well..."_ There was a long pause, in which she seemed to be gathering her wits. _"We don't live exactly in Los Angeles; we live in Beverly Hills. I do work in Los Angeles, though..."_

"Okay..." He was telling her about when they got married, and she was talking to him about where she worked?

She released a small sigh that he barely heard through the phone. _"I'm not a gymnast anymore. I'm an actress, apparently."_

"An actress? Huh?" This was hilarious. Kaylie Cruz became an actress—how fitting. So maybe all that torture he'd put him through while MJ was touting them to be "gymnastics' golden couple" (interviews, photographs, articles) was rehearsal for the real thing.

"_Yeah, it's supposedly a really successful primetime dramedy—they used that term, not me—it's a TV series about gymnastics. And I'm the lead actress; I play someone named... well, that doesn't matter. I found out all this during one thirty-minute helicopter ride with Payson, can you believe it? All I had to ask was what she had planned for us to train, since that seemed like a safe enough question, and that led to her telling me about what the producers had in mind for next season, and what it's going to be about, and so on."_

"So... Payson is an actress too?"

"_No, she's the gymnastics consultant and my coach. Apparently I do my own stunts. Which is just as well, because as a still-reigning Olympic champion, I'm not sure I'd respond well to having someone do my stunts for me. Oh, and guess who's one of the writers for the show."_

"Who?"

"_Kelly Parker! The spawn of the Devil!"_ He was laughing at her disgusted tone, when abruptly his eyes slammed shut and he got another flash of memory—while Kaylie was still going on about her theory that Kelly drinks human blood.

"_Why can't we have sex on, like, a normal bed?" Nicky knows he sounds whiny but he can't quite control his voice when Kelly is utilizing her formidable force and looks to stun him and strip him of his clothes right there in the back of his truck. It's sort of annoying how he's basically just a penis to her, but who is he to complain?_

"_I should be insulted by where your thoughts are right now, instead of on me." She's laughing, of course, because sex is how she unwinds (especially National Team practices like this one), and because her hand is wandering down dangerously close to his crotch area, and she loves teasing._

"_Well, we've done it in a closet, in a tent, in the locker room, in the shower, in your car—and now in my car—so I think this is a valid…" he trails off because her hands are finally touching him down there and his brain might as well have turned to mush. "Argument…"_

"_There. Is that what it takes for you to shut up?" She giggles and kisses him, but he can't think about anything. The truck feels so hot. And as though by magic, her clothes have almost completely disappeared and he just wants to do it, and stop her teasing. "Guess what… I was the one that hid Kaylie Cruz' car keys."_

_Immediately, his body freezes and he can't help the wince that takes over his features. _

_Kelly notices his reaction and sits up, all remnants of playfulness gone. "What. The fuck, Nicky."_

Just like that, within a blink of an eye, the flash faded into a vision of the gym and Sasha. Oh shit. He dated Kelly Parker.

"_Nicky?"_ Kaylie's distant voice dragged him from his shock and dread and he wondered, with a queasy, reluctant stomach, whether he should mention to her that her now-husband was having sex with Kelly Parker in trucks before he married her.

"Uh… Kaylie…"

"_Did you remember something?"_ Her excitement only furthered his discomfort, and he couldn't pinpoint why he was suddenly so disappointed in himself.

"Yeah, sort of…" Oh my God. How was he going to tell her this? He decided to stall a little bit and see whether he could rake his mind for a possible solution. "Kelly Parker, huh?"

"_Yes. She's engaged to Austin Tucker now, can you believe it?"_

"Austin Tucker, huh?" Just tell her!

"_Yeah… he's, uh… my co-star…"_ She sounded really uneasy. _"Why?"_ And then she sounded alarmed, for some reason. _"Did you remember something about him?"_

"Not him, exactly…" Breathe. This was years ago. He's happily married now. "I used to date Kelly Parker. That's what I remembered."

"_WHAT?"_

"Like, years ago," he quickly amended, cringing at what he imagined Kaylie's fury looked like right then. The possibility of having her mad at him for some reason caused him immense anxiety. "We were in my truck… talking. And… yeah. Just talking."

"_Were you having sex in your truck?"_

"Maybe…"

"_UGH."_

"You shouldn't be jealous, or angry or whatever. Come on. We're married now!"

"_I'm not jealous, or angry,"_ she stated, sounding very jealous and angry. _"For the record, I also remembered something. I used to date Austin Tucker."_

Goddamn. Not that asshole. Not the guy that got his gold medal at Nationals in 2009. "What? Your co-star? He's the biggest son of a bi—"

"_Kelly Parker is the Antichrist, Nicky."_

"Kaylie…" Suddenly, he felt tired. Apparently, a lot more happened between 2010 and now than he'd estimated. How the hell are they going to catch up? "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think I really liked her." Kaylie didn't say anything, but he heard a sigh and it encouraged him to explain himself. "It seemed like… like I still had feelings for you. Somewhat."

"_And if it makes any difference, my memory involved me and Austin arguing. So… nothing mushy or anything. Very unpleasant, in fact."_

"Okay, yeah. That is better." He could almost see her smiling at the other end.

"_Good."_

"Good." He was so relieved. And amazed at how his feelings can saunter from annoyance, to happiness, to disappointment, and at that moment, a warm kind of satisfaction that Kaylie hadn't stopped liking him or anything. "I'm guessing you're okay with your job. You sound happy."

"_It's hard to answer..." _Her voice became softer, and instinctively he felt his chest become heavy; he wished he could see her._ "I stepped into the studio and everything seemed so familiar. I went to my trailer—and by the way, I have an assistant who follows me everywhere, and it's getting annoying—anyway, I went to my trailer and once I was inside, I remembered you visiting me. And going over lines with me. Apparently you think my job is hilarious. You make fun of me all the time."_

"Who—me? I would never!" The sarcasm he infused his denial with made her laugh, and he had to close his eyes because it felt so good to hear that. "When are you coming back?"

"_If it were up to me, I'd be there on the next helicopter flight back, so I could return to being awkward around you as soon as possible,"_ she attempted to joke, then lowered her voice. _"I know it's going to be weird for you to hear this, but it's only been an hour and I miss you. Somehow. And if it matters any, I've gotten over having seen us having sex."_

"Good to know! I didn't know how we were going to go on living together if I can't even touch you."

"_Well, the touching... you might still have to give me some time before you do that."_

They laughed, but he wondered briefly whether that meant the sex was really that good. "Now I'm _really_ curious."

Kaylie's chuckle eased his concern that he might have sounded... _flirtatious_ (or creepy) when he said that last part. Like he wanted to find out. Which in all honesty, he did. Because she was awfully, awfully attractive and hot and sometimes looking at her made him get a headache, and also made him conscious of certain body parts of his that he wished wouldn't react so much to her.

Get a grip, Russo.

"_I'm sure you'll start getting some memories of your own, Nicky. And then we'll both be awkward around each other."_

"Have a good day," he wished her, wishing he could see her right then and there instead of having to go through a whole day braving new experiences by himself.

She bid him the same, and as he hung up, Nicky turned to see Sasha setting up the chalk bowl. Nicky decided he'll start the day with the still rings; one sweeping look at the shiny, beautiful apparatus, and he already felt better. This was his comfort zone. He could deal with Kaylie's hotness later.


	4. My dreams look like a porn movie

**A/N: thanks for all your reviews. This chapter is more of a filler, but it was fun to write and provides some more backstory to what's their circumstance is and how they feel about it. Next chapter is going to be MAJOR. But please let me know what you think about this one so I can get even more motivated. Enjoy!**

* * *

CHAPTER 4: My dreams look like a porn movie

Kaylie reluctantly stepped out of the limousine that had delivered her back to her doorstep, and surveyed her house, deep in thought.

All the shock about being married to Nicky and having retired from gymnastics only to become an actress—all of it had now worn off, and she felt as though she now had a clear enough head to examine this life of hers.

Was this really what she'd chosen for herself? Surely there had been forks in the road; instances in which she had stumbled upon two paths, and had to decide between them. Now, looking at her house, and thinking about Nicky, the trophies, and the awards inside (she'd won last year's Emmy award for best actress in a comedy series, or something like that), she wished she could remember what made her pick all this over her other options. And what had been the other options? Did she regret anything? For all she knew, Nicky and her were on the verge of a divorce, she hated this acting gig, and she had some other best friend besides Payson who she hadn't contacted in days.

But then again—and this was the part that was actually harder to contemplate, for some reason—then again this could have been everything she dreamed about. For all she knew, she was in fact in love with Nicky, and felt fulfilled by her new career, and things were a lot more similar to the old days than she thought.

Not that she was comfortable. No, she's having sex dreams about Nicky, is getting lost in the set of her show—amazingly though, she can remember all the lines she memorized—and is calling everyone "hey you." She wasn't sure she could ever adapt to this, and it seemed like the only person who understood her was, of course, Nicky—the person she'd normally be running away from.

And then there'd been her mother's phone call earlier in the day—apparently she's in a cruise, and in 2014, cellular reception is still terrible so all she heard was a crackle, a "how are you, honey?" followed by more crackles, an "I'll call you when I get back," a dial tone, and then a sound that made her think of a horror movie dying scene.

She nudged the door open and felt a memory coming again, causing her to wince in pain and raise a hand to her temple, door half-open while she grips the knob.

"_You're still an eighteen-year-old virgin, even if he isn't; how can you be getting married?" Lauren asked with irritated indignation. "I don't think you're ready."_

"_I honestly think I am," Kaylie replied, struggling to maintain her cool. Lauren had a point._

"_Lo, she's made her decision. Sometimes you just know. And with her and Nicky, she knows." Payson was attempting to settle down the arguing, but ended up taking a step back when Lauren took an aggressive step forward._

"_They're both too young. You know it. At least when she was dating Austin she didn't want to marry him."_

"_You're ruining her bachelorette party."_

_Kaylie walked to her two friends and stepped in between them. "I love him. I didn't love Austin. That's why I broke up with him and am going to marry Nicky tomorrow. Please, Lo. Be happy for me. Everything was going okay and you've shoved more twenty-dollar bills in men's underwear than I thought you would, and I'd probably die if I couldn't be with Nicky, so... can't we just go back? To the way it was before?"_

What the hell... so Lauren didn't approve of her marriage? Was that why Payson was so present in her life and Lauren wasn't?

Still pondering, Kaylie entered her house and absent-mindedly headed to her room upstairs. On the way, she saw some movement out of the corner of her eye and stepped into a room to investigate. It was Nicky, shirtless and sweaty, completing what she was sure were many hundreds of push-ups. She wanted to laugh at how intensely absorbed he seemed by the activity, but instead, his heavy breathing and the image of his bulging muscles contracting with effort caused her to remember the dream she'd had the night before, which itself she had guessed was probably a memory.

She involuntarily closed her eyes, because the flash of remembrance made her wince. There it was again—the two of them on that same bed on their bedroom, and there's a whole lot of moving and panting and moaning and kissing and Jesus Christ, why can't she just bury this memory? She's had to push it aside from her mind several times during that day.

"Enjoying the view?" It was Nicky, of course, interrupting her lusty flashback. She felt her face burn because she couldn't help looking at his body, and it was driving her crazy.

"What view?" she replied easily, and traded a smile with him.

She felt his eyes on her leotard—the costume she hadn't bothered changing out of when she left the set because she missed being clothed like this. And for some reason, Nicky looked sort of stunned. "Wow. You look really good."

"Thanks. That's nice of y—"

He smiled before cutting her off. "For, you know, someone who's retired."

"You really have a way with words, Russo," she said, rolling her eyes. "When did your training end?"

"At six, so... about two hours ago?" Jesus. The boy was still training six or seven hours per day. Nicky grabbed a towel nearby and began to dry himself off, a vision which Kaylie knew she should not see, unless she planned on having another porn dream that night. "How was work?"

"Interesting..." she murmured, pretending to look at a framed picture of them hanging low on the wall, but instead catching his nicely-defined chest reflected on the glass. Yes, she was ashamed of this, but this was her husband after all. She could at least look.

"I made you something."

Slowly, she turned from the picture to face him. "What kind of something?"

Nicky grinned, and walked over to her until they were close enough that she could see the beads of sweat on his forehead, although not so close that he was invading her personal space. "Dinner."

"Should I take some TUMS beforehand?"

"Come to think of it, I should have given you some raw chicken with salmonella and told you it was sushi or something." He continued to grin while she laughed, then walked to the bathroom nearby, saying, "give me a couple of minutes; I'll be right down so we can eat."

Twenty minutes later they had both showered and sat down to eat, while Kaylie laughingly explained how she found out she was great at memorizing lines, and how often she had gotten lost in the enormous studio lot. After he made fun of her and told her he would order the first season of her show right away, Kaylie saw their maid pass by inconspicuously and decided to tell him about what was possibly the most interesting part of her day.

"Hey, I think that maid is spying on us, for Payson," she told him in a low voice.

"How do you mean?"

"Well," and this, of course, was an uncomfortable subject, but she plowed on, "she told Payson that we didn't sleep in the same room last night, and Payson was concerned."

Nicky narrowed his eyes with indignation. "She _is_ a spy!"

"Payson asked me whether we were having any problems."

"What did you tell her?"

Kaylie tried to remember exactly what she had told Payson, and it took her a few seconds before it finally came back to her. "I told her we had a little fight, but that when you called me, you apologized, and now we're good."

"Why would I be the one to apologize?" That, she was not expecting.

"Nicky, I'm not a great spontaneous liar; that was the best story I could come up with."

"What did we fight about?" Nicky was apparently a lot more curious about this than she'd imagined.

"I didn't tell her what it had been about."

"Well, what if she asks?"

"Then... I don't know," she sighed with frustration. "What do married couples fight about?"

"I don't know."

Kaylie felt as though she'd just been interrogated, for no discernible reason, so she decided to at least find out why. "Why are you asking all of this?"

She heard Nicky clear his throat, then blush, then fidget with his fork and knife, before finally turning to her. "My back was a little sore, and... Sasha asked me... whether..."

"Whether?"

"Whether we were being a bit... rough." His voice might have actually risen an octave at the end of that sentence.

"Rough."

"Yes."

"As in, rough sex."

"Yes."

"He asked you that, with a straight face and everything."

"Yes, we're both men now, and…" He sighs, obviously embarrassed. "Well, when Payson asked you why we didn't sleep together that night, did she mention our sex life?"

Kaylie was taken aback. How did he _know_? "She might have."

"Well, then. Everyone thinks everything is about sex." Nicky was clearly irritated, and followed that with an impatient telling of what had transpired between he and Sasha that day. "So anyway, after I called you he asked me whether everything was okay, and I told him it was, and he asked me whether we had any fights or anything, since apparently I look like I'm under stress and like I'm not sleeping well. I told him we had one, just to shut him up, but that we were okay, but I didn't tell him what the fight had been about because I don't know what we could have to fight about. So that's why I wanted to know about the conversation you had with Payson, all right?"

The silence that followed his outburst gave her time to think about a good solution to this.

"Nicky, we should at least sleep in the same room, just to avoid all of this. One more night of sleeping separately, and some tabloid will run a story about how we're getting divorced. Would it be okay or would it bother you?"

"Bother me? You're the one dreaming about us having sex," he mumbled.

"It won't bother me. Maybe we'll even remember some other things. You know, hopefully not sex-related." She smiled with what she was hoped was confidence, although she was actually terrified that she'd have another dream, or God forbid, would try something on him while he was sleeping. Gosh, the mere idea...

"All right. Whatever will make our life easier." They were finishing their meals then, and as he rose and began to serve her some diced fruit, he announced, "some package arrived for you today. It's kind of big... it's in the living room."

Curious, she retrieved the package and unwrapped it in the kitchen. "Oh my God... it's a dress." The vivid, rich color and intricate sewing made her guess that there was some event she was supposed to attend, wearing this particular dress. She checked the cellphone she didn't know she had until her assistant, Alice, had fished out of her purse that afternoon. There it was. September 17th: she had the season premiere party to go to. And there was a note in the bottom, "+N" so perhaps that meant she was supposed to take Nicky?

"It's a nice dress. I got a tuxedo delivered, so we must have a party to go to, eh?" He offered her a cube of watermelon and she smiled warmly.

"Yeah, that's exactly it. It's my season premiere party. 'Be ready for pickup by 6,'" Kaylie read, somewhat more excited about this than she thought was appropriate. A party was just what she needed to relieve some stress. It was going to be fun. She glanced at the time indicator in the cellphone and smiled. "Hey, it's still early and I have to watch the entire last season—or at least some key episodes—of the series that I work in so I'll know what they're talking about when they mention my storylines. So…"

"So…?" He knew what she wanted to get at, but of course he was going to make her ask him. And as she watched his smile, she felt a sudden rush of gratitude that she was stuck in this whole memory loss situation with him, instead of some unknown guy she'd have to get to know from scratch.

"That's my way of asking you to watch it with me."

His smile widened into a laugh. "Oh was that it? I'm sorry; I guess you were too subtle."

"Or, you wanted to see me beg."

"I was up for a little coaxing."

Yes. Definitely better than some unknown guy.

The series was interesting, but it was an unsettling, almost eerie experience, watching herself on a television screen. Her character, Josie Laurent, was a complete bitch, but her trek through the world of gymnastics, love, and family was fascinating.

"Why do you think she's sleeping with Andrew?" she found herself discussing with Nicky, while he was so engrossed in the scene taking place that his hand was grasping for and missing the popcorn bowl.

"Maybe she's not over John. But I don't know why she did that to Carol."

"I think it was because of Cameron."

"You think? But do girls really do that?"

"Yeah, actually, they do. Have you met Lauren Tanner?"

While they watched the fourth episode and had already gone through the whole bag of popcorn, their conversation took a stranger turn than expected.

"Okay, why is Josie hot and I'm not?" she heard herself ask with way more indignation that she'd intended to put in her tone.

Nicky laughed with disbelief. "If I knew you were going to react like this, then I wouldn't have said anything."

"But you did say it, so explain it."

"You sound jealous. Of yourself. Which is ridiculous."

"Wanna know what else is ridiculous? You thinking that my character on TV is hot, while not finding _me_ hot." There were worse things than disliking her own character over a boy, right? Right?

"You're not..." Nicky sighed, obviously still struggling to hold back laughter. "You're pretty decent, Cruz."

Kaylie couldn't help the squeak that left her throat. She was not just decent. Goddammit, she was pretty! Or at least, with some make-up on. And well, hair that she'd done more to than just brush. Crap. That would turn her into Josie.

She really was losing her mind.

He mistook her stunned silence for a reason to be alarmed, because he quickly added, "you know I was kidding, right? You're definitely hot. Come on. The whole gym thought you were hot. Even when you were sweaty and smelled like locker room and chalk."

Kaylie sighed, watching him with annoyance. "Can you ever just compliment me? And you know, not add an insult afterwards?"

She can see the lines of worry and remorse on his face and suddenly it becomes hard to keep in the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He looks so, so guilty—it's hilarious. "But you know I was kidding right? I don't want you to... go around thinking you're ugly. You look even better than Josie, because that's too much make-up on you and you already look good. That stuff they put on your lips is taking away from your smile, which is sort of perfect, and you know already what kind of body you have, because you always look great, and I'm embarrassing myself at this point, aren't I?"

Finally, she releases a long-pent-up chortle and he laughs too, albeit uneasily. "No, please go on. That was... riveting."

"You're an evil girl."

Another half hour later and they're debating why Josie and John (played by Austin) are always fighting and can't see how perfect they are for each other. Well, she thinks they're perfect together; Nicky is rooting for the underdog couple, Josie and Andrew.

"She slept with Andrew, so maybe she likes him?" he ventures, and Kaylie immediately sits up to voice her disagreement.

"Of course not. She's using Andrew. It's obvious."

"But John cheated on her. Maybe she's had enough of the asshole and wants a nice guy."

"She loves John, even if he cheated. It's hard to get over your first boyfriend, especially when you train in the same gym, and the girl he replaced you with is in the same gym, too. And maybe is even your best friend." Wow. Things got personal so quickly that the road to this outburst was a blur.

"Where are you getting that? Is John really Josie's first boyfriend? Are Carol and Josie best friends? What episode—"

"You know what? Let's skip this scene."

Two hours later, they had slid closer to each other in order to share a bag of apple chips and were watching, horrified, as one of the characters made out with a married coach.

"Oh my God. This is so awful," Kaylie murmured, swept by horror and disgust.

Nicky grabbed another apple chip, and without taking his eyes off the television, inquired, "why? I mean, why is she doing this? He's married."

Something tugged at Kaylie's gut—the feeling that his statement was leading this conversation into places that would cause her pain. "You know, that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"I thought they were happy."

"Thing aren't always the way they seem in a marriage."

Nicky shrugged, and turned to her. "This is about us, isn't it? You're not happy that we ended up getting married—"

She interrupted him before he could expand that theory—whatever it was, it had nothing to do with them. "Nicky. I didn't tell you, but my mother called me today. It was a short call because she's in a place with horrible reception. Anyway..." It felt strange to voice reservations she's had about all of this ever since they woke up in 2014. "Four years ago, my parents were... going through a rough time. Really rough. And I just got this feeling—I was sick to my stomach—that they got divorced." She sighed, and noticed, frowning, that she was squeezing her fingers together and cutting off their blood circulation. "I don't want to find out that they got divorced. I want to know they stuck together."

When she was done with this embarrassingly heartfelt admission, she felt a different sort of awkwardness dominate the air between them. It wasn't their usual "oh my God we used to like each other and now we're married and sleep together, and wonder what the sex is like." It was something more understated, like he understood her but didn't know how to convey it. His earnest, tight smile somehow relaxed her, and her fingers got their circulation back.

"Kaylie, my mom died when I was 12."

That managed to jar her away from her self-pity. "Oh wow. I'm so sorry."

He waves her concern away, somewhat tensely. "It's been a long time. It's fine. But I'm just saying that so you'll know that... this marriage thing scares the hell out of me, too."

"I guess neither of our parents' marriages ended on the best terms."

"Hey," he called, and took her hand, causing a thousand flutters inside her stomach, "we don't know yet whether your parents divorced." Slowly, a cool calmness overtook her, expanding into a content drowsiness that was whispering sleep in her ear. It was late, wasn't it?

Wordlessly, he reached for the remote control and turned off the television while she stood and gathered the blankets and bags of food they'd gathered in their living room (well, one of them). Once they'd reached their room, neither seemed willing to step inside, and they must have looked strange, poised at the doorway like that. She probably would have stayed there for a while if he hadn't silently made his way to the bed and begun to rearrange their pillows.

"How about a pillow fort, to make sure you don't try anything on me while we sleep?" He threw her a pillow and effectively convinced her worries to evaporate.

Kaylie hurled the pillow at his face but he ducked, laughing. "I can't wait till you're the one who can't look me in the eye for a whole day without getting flashbacks."

Nicky was silent for a moment, then cleared his throat again, and she was startled that she could tell now when he was faking confidence. "So... how were they? The flashbacks, I mean?"

Oh course. Classic male behavior—anxiety over performance. This was going to be fun.

"Eh. I guess you were fine." She shrugged indifferently for heightened effect, and knew he was holding his breath.

"Oh. Really."

"Let's just say it was a very short dream." No, it wasn't—it was very long and even looking at this bed, with him so close to it made her want to throw him down on it and experience things while conscious of them.

"Oh..."

Was she being too mean? "But you know... you were decent."

"Yeah?" He sounded hopeful, sad even, so she touched his arm and ignored the fluttering inside her once again, because this wasn't the time to pay attention to them. And because she was sort of getting used to them, and although they were awkward, these butterflies were a good feeling. Being with Nicky was a good feeling.

"I'm kidding, Nicky. It looked like a porn movie." There. The wide, boyish smile was back on his handsome face and the butterflies were beating their wings so furiously inside her that she almost felt sick and queasy.

"Night, Kaylie."

"Good night, Nicky."


	5. Some things you just can't unsee

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews and feedback. All of them have been very flattering and helpful so I hope I can continue to entertain you guys with the story. This chapter was the one I described as "MAJOR" and indeed it's about 5,000 words long-a lot had to be covered I guess. :) Please continue to review and let me know what you think.**

* * *

CHAPTER 5: Some Things You Just Can't Unsee

Kaylie snaps her eyes open.

Oh my God. She's late. She knows it—she's really, really late. She's never late for things, and yet it's—she scans the room, looking for a clock—ELEVEN O'CLOCK! She was supposed to be in the studio four hours ago! Damn their late night series marathon. She's going to be late (LATE LATE LATE LATE) and she didn't even get enough sleep to make it through the day without a headache and queasy stomach.

Quickly, she leaps off the bed, unconcerned that she might have woken up Nicky.

_Actually_... instantly irritated, she doesn't find him anywhere in the room. The bastard got an early start and didn't bother waking her up.

Her closet is ravaged within the next ten seconds as she searches for a decent outfit. Everyone at the set is very well-dressed, and in her usual attire, she'd probably look like a bum, or one of those people featured on Fashion Police articles, under the subtitle "ARRESTED." If only they could understand that this Kaylie, the one missing four years worth of memories, still has a sixteen-year-old's fashion sense...

She settles for a pair of green khakis and a red top that resembles what she saw someone wearing in the studio across the street as she was leaving yesterday. And anyway, she doesn't have time to worry about dressing properly—she's freaking late and there was a scene to reshoot, and afterward she still has to get ready for the season premiere party...

Kaylie doesn't bother looking for Nicky, figuring he's training as always; instead, she summons her driver and tells him, measuring no words, to "step on it like your life depends on it."

The journey must have only taken a half hour or so but she's so panicked that as she's running across the parking lot to board one of the golf carts that transport everyone around, she attempts to push away the sick tugging in her stomach, wondering how seriously the producers take tardies. Just as she's nearing the warehouse where they were going to do the reshooting, she watches Kelly Parker walk towards Austin, who is surrounded by giggly teenage girls, and reveling in it. Kelly rolls her eyes and pulls him by the sleeve, away from the crowd, and immediately the studio's security guards begin to usher away the screaming, pleading girls.

Kaylie is fascinated. She knows she should be more concerned with the fact that she's so late, and that it's making her sick to her stomach, but she parks her cart and watches them. Her ex-boyfriend and her nemesis are together and it's just... baffling. And also, Kelly hasn't been to the set all week, according to her hairdresser yesterday, so this is the first time Kaylie is seeing the girl who was, for years, gymnastics' biggest bully.

Kelly is slapping his arm, while he laughs, completely nonplussed. "Do you _want_ to go to jail? I don't want to have to rescue you from men trying to rape you in the showers."

"Do you know how hot you look when you're jealous?" He pulls her to him and it looks like he's going to kiss her, but she shoots him a dangerous, menacing glare.

"Do you know how painful these heels will feel in your ass?"

Jesus Christ. The girl is still really violent. But Austin apparently thinks it's charming, and is grinning widely, until he grabs her hand and holds it up for examination. "What the hell is this? Who touched you?"

A mildly irritated Kelly snatches her hand away but doesn't move back from him. They're still standing as close as they can before their clothes start touching, and a blushing, uncomfortable Kaylie really wants to look away but can't—this is like those Discovery Channel specials about unnatural pairings in nature. "These bruises are from the handcuffs last night, you moron. Next time, I'm the cop."

The grin is back, and then they're a few feet away from Kaylie and suddenly she feels very stupid, just sitting there in the cart, disheveled and listening to two impossibly attractive people and their R-rated banter. "How you doing, Kaylie?" Austin says.

"You're late," is Kelly's greeting. "And you look like shit." Why is she actually smiling warmly as she's saying this? It's like the words and her facial expression don't match.

"And _that's_ why you never had any girl friends," Austin quips, inciting another scowl from Kelly.

"Fuck you, Austin," she replies with smirk.

He's already walking away, but turns to smile and blows her a exaggerated kiss. "Yup. You do that every night. See you later, ladies."

Kelly is facing her again and Kaylie can't help her rising temperature. Watching them had provided some momentary relief from her worries and sickness, but now the bane of her existence is three feet away from her, holding out some coffee that is probably poisoned, or spiked with laxatives.

"No, thanks."

"You know, I really don't think this red-green combination is working for you," Kelly states with a slight shake of her head, then, oblivious to Kaylie's horror, pulls her by the hand out of the cart, heading to the set. "You look like Christmas threw up on you. Or, wait—" They halt by the door and Kelly smiles, too friendly, too brightly, to notice that Kaylie is narrowing her eyes and actually running all sorts of insults in her head. "Let me guess. Today is a national holiday in Mexico, so you showed up as a tribute to the Mexican flag."

This bitch... "Parker..." Kaylie begins, remembering all the times Kelly made her life and those of her friends miserable. "Please get the fuck away from me. You're the last person I want to talk to right now."

That sounded just as serious and threatening as she'd imagined it would, and it makes Kelly lean back, releasing her hand. Something resembling affront, or maybe even hurt, flashes in her eyes for an instant, while Kaylie maintains her stoney glare. "Tell me you're in character right now," Kelly asks, composure back.

Instead of replying, Kaylie steps into the set and begins to walk away, but just as Kelly is reaching to her, saying, "at least eat something, Kaylie!" the all-too-familiar high-pitched whine takes over, and she shuts her eyes.

"_At least eat something, Kaylie." Why is Kelly helping? _

"_Why are you trying to help me?"_

"_You're part of the National Team now. We all depend on each other and we all need to win. I want you to lose, but I don't want you to lose your life."_

_Before she can really gauge what she's about to say, and why she should be honest with the one girl who's always made sure to ruin her day, the words are leaving her."It's just... hard. I thought I was fine after I got released from the hospital last year, but..." But she's too big. She's still too big to beat Cho and she's going to be a humiliation to her teammates and country. And now she's the National Team captain and... she's _such_ a failure. _

"_You're not a failure." Did she say those things out loud? "You're a fashion failure, your boyfriend Austin is a douchebag, and I think your IQ points are in the double digits, but you're a great gymnast."_

_This is the first National Team practice for the Olympics next year. She's national champion again, but always feels like she's on the verge of relapsing. The sickening, headache-inducing pressure she feels when it's weighing time..._

"_You know the Denver boys are arriving today?" Kelly says, examining her nails with great interest and effectively snapping Kaylie out of her depressed reverie. Kaylie wipes her eyes because they feel puffy, although she hasn't really cried. In a long time. _

_She watches Kelly's distracted motions; the way she looks so, so perfect and in control, studying her hands and looking like she knows the world revolves around her. And it's hard for Kaylie to contain a sort of oscillating sensation in her; she's taking turns admiring Kelly and resenting her._

_Then she sighs and realizes that she's not ugly. That's not what her problem is. Her problem is these shrimps she gathered in her napkin to throw out here, and would have been successful in doing that if Kelly hadn't busted her. Oh well... there are worse things—_

_What? Is that Nicky's voice coming from the cafeteria? Instantly, she straightens; she can't help perking her ears._

"_Oh, my God," Kelly spits with disgust. "Don't tell me you've been moping around since Nationals like he's been doing. I had to tell him that if I ever saw him cry I'd secretly film it and make a YouTube montage to the wonderfully gay sound of Celine Dion's 'All By Myself.'"_

_Kaylie is only partially paying attention to Kelly's words. Before she can stop herself, she's dumped the food-filled napkin into the trash and is stepping out of the bathroom. She's had a desperate, breathless weight in her chest since Nationals because she hadn't been able to really talk to Nicky, and now that she can see him, the weight is lightening and lightening, and by the time he catches sight of her and gives her a reserved, blushing smile, the weight is gone._

She's back to the set, sicker now than she was before; her stomach is churning and churning, and she's a bit dizzy now. Anorexia. She was anorexic... when did that start? Did she gain a lot of weight and had to lose it? But didn't she look fine in the memory? Well, maybe for a gymnast that wasn't light enough to accomplish so many twists and leaps... heck, maybe now, come to think of it...

NO. She's fine. She doesn't need to lose weight. She's not even a gymnast anymore.

She actually ate a lot yesterday, didn't she? And just before bed, too. How many calories are in popcorn?

Oh, God; why does she want to throw up so badly? She's already digested the popcorn and hasn't eaten anything all morning... which is just as well because maybe a few pounds less would—STOP IT, KAYLIE.

Her assistant, Alice, comes to view and motions her over to a far corner of the warehouse. "Doctor Alex is here with your shots for this week, Mrs. Russo," Alice explains helpfully, and Kaylie frowns when automatically an older, athletic man gently takes her arm.

"How are you feeling?"

What the hell is going on here? Is she diabetic or something? But then insulin shots aren't administered _weekly_, are they?

Reluctantly, she relaxes, eyeing the needle wearily. "Horrible."

"This will take care of it..." The sting is mild; doesn't bother her as much as his vague, comforting words do. "I'm using a different spot from last week, so you shouldn't be as sore."

What. The Hell.

"Excuse me, but what—" And before she can complete her sentence, she hears a phone ring and knows it's coming from her handbag. "Hold on."

The doctor only nods with a kind smile, and doesn't "hold on." He starts to leave. "There. You can go back to your shoot. We're done, Mrs. Russo. See you next week."

Ugh. Nothing is going her way today. "Hello?"

"_Kaylie, hey."_ It's Nicky. Of course it is. Because just like in the memory, she immediately straightens and forgets all about the anorexia, and Kelly Parker, and the injection of God-knows-what she's just received from doctor what's-his-face. Even the nausea is getting better. _"I went up to check on you and you were already gone."_

Alice gives her a bagel and Kaylie gratefully accepts. "I've _been_ gone," she states with annoyance, although now that she's finally eating something, her mood is considerably less apocalyptic. "For an hour already. Where were you?"

"_Training, of course. Hey, is tonight that party for your show? I'm looking at that suit they sent me."_

She sighs. Whatever it is about talking to him, it makes her feel so much better that she wonders whether being a bitchy to Kelly Parker was really all that necessary. "Yes, it's tonight. I'll be heading home after this reshoot and we'll get ready to go. How does the suit look?"

"_I haven't tried it on yet..."_ She can hear him chuckling, and it brings a smile to her lips, in expectation of what he'll say next. _"I was going to tell you that I just got out of the shower but I was worried about you getting a flashback."_

There's laughter threatening to erupt from her, but she contains it and feigns indignation. "You think I'm a perv, don't you?"

"_Somewhat. But with my looks, I don't blame you."_

Kaylie's eyes slowly shut, taking in how much she wishes he were here right now, so he could see her smile. "You're jealous," she replies softly, still managing to sound taunting. "Because I've seen you naked and you haven't seen me." When he laughs, she swallows hard and opens her eyes quickly, because she needs to catch herself—she was starting to sink into a little pool of pathetic, mushy feelings, and this is Nicky Russo. They're married, yeah, but that was the older Kaylie. She's the sixteen-year-old one, and as far as she knows, he's the guy who until about two weeks ago, just before that stupid bullfight routine, hated her guts and thought she only showed up at the gym to catch up with her friends.

And this feeling (whatever it is), that five minutes away from him is four minutes and fifty-nine seconds too many, makes her recall how awkward it was to sleep with him the night before; the debate over who slept on each side, and then hearing his breathing and feeling his heat throughout the whole night had felt like torture. And she had been so afraid that she'd slip into autopilot from her married days and… grab him or something. To make matters worse, she'd had another one of those dreams. This one was a little less intense than the last, but still—she had watched herself have sex with Nicky.

Some things you just can't unsee.

And some feelings she just can't seem to get rid of. What the hell is going on with her?

"Well, I have to go," she tells him tiredly. "These scenes aren't going to shoot themselves."

She hangs up, noticing how her stomach's stopped turning and she actually feels great now, and surveys the set. Everyone is already in make-up so she hurries and takes a seat, turning to Austin.

"I'm really sorry I'm, like, five hours late or something," she apologizes, trying to sound more serious while there's a woman yanking her hair from her head while blow-drying it.

Austin frowns, immersed in his cellphone. "What do you mean? The shoot was scheduled for eleven. You were late half an hour."

Eleven? Not seven? "Oh. I thought... never mind." Everyone seems to be reading or texting, so she figures she should grab a magazine to distract from the enormous cloud of hairspray hovering above her head. And wow—she's on the cover of this one, posing suggestively with Austin. Jesus Christ... aren't covers supposed to be PG-rated?

"Hey, did you and Kelly have a fight?" Austin inquires suddenly, startling her a bit. Kaylie isn't sure what, exactly, she's supposed to tell him, because "I hate her and believe with all my heart that every time she laughs, an angel dies" just won't do.

"I... was in a bad mood earlier, so... I might have been kind of bitchy with her." What had Kelly asked of her again? Right. "And I think I was in character." Whatever that means.

"Oh. Okay. No problem." He nods, understandingly, and turns back to his phone. Kaylie leafs through the magazine and is pleasantly surprised: she didn't come out hideously on the photos the paparazzi snapped when she and Nicky attempted to take a walk two days ago.

* * *

Clearly, Nicky isn't a drinker.

Kaylie is thinking about this three hours into the party, as they're both at the karaoke stage, and he's performing an impressive air guitar. He has a great voice; his singing took her aback because he picked a nice, classic rock song by Journey and was belting the hell out of it.

Apparently, with the whole acting thing, she's also taken some singing lessons, because she sounds better than she remembers. And because she's never liked alcohol (and, more importantly, is underage), Kaylie hasn't drunk anything—except some punch and water—so she's sober, but she can see Nicky's eyes swimming and has seen him impulsively down more than a few shots in the last hour.

He takes her hand and they continue to sing, grinning at each other like idiots. This has been very, very fun so far. What she had thought would be an uncomfortable, uptight event with a sea of faces she didn't recognize turned out to be a very diverse party with lots of people she could laugh with—all from the cast and staff of the show. She even managed to trade an apologetic smile with Kelly, who looked immediately relieved, and, well, less of an evil cow than she usually did. Nicky had turned on the Russo charm at the party and made her proud to call him her husband (even if that title was still weird and sounded very forced coming out of her). The whole evening is being a complete improvement over her shitty morning.

The last verse is coming up and she laughs when Nicky pulls her to dance. Right now she doesn't care that they have appearances to keep and being a big-shot actress might not go hand-in-hand with acting like a dork while karaokeing. All she cares about is how much fun she's having, and how distracting it is that his warm hand is on her waist and he's so close she can see the specks of gray in his green eyes, and all the ways in which his hair is sticking out in disarray.

Seriously, everything about him right now makes her want to pull him into a room and find out whether the sex is really as mind-blowing as it seemed to be in the dream. When he pulls her a little closer and lowers his voice to sing the first line of the final verse, she swallows hard. She can't figure out whether these feelings are hers, or vestiges of the "older Kaylie," the one who married this guy.

Finally, the song ends with one last note they both hit with great enthusiasm amidst claps and cheers from their audience, and now Kaylie is seriously flustered and embarrassed, even if Nicky doesn't seem to be.

She leads him off the stage and towards the bar, wondering what to say to him, and why she can't even look him in the eye.

"I love your voice," he drawls out, reminding her that he's indeed drunk. She checks her watch—it's already one o'clock.

"We should go to our rooms," she thinks out loud. It's a good thing this party is being held in a bar underneath a hotel; everyone has rooms reserved for the night, to avoid DUI's and other inconveniences. When Nicky places a hand on her shoulder to steady himself, and then doesn't bother hiding that he's surveying her body with heightened interest, she loses her train of thought. This is what they call eye-fucking, isn't it?

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?"

Unable to fully process what he just said, she takes a step back and bumps against one of the stools, which causes her balance to falter. Slightly panicked, she reaches out and grabs a fistful of his shirt. Nicky's wide grin makes her snatch her hand away right away, especially when he takes a step forward to close the distance between them again.

"Are you trying to take my shirt off?" he asks sultrily. Kaylie is positively speechless, and is only vaguely aware that her entire face feels like it's on fire.

"We… need… to go to our room." It is with extreme difficulty that she manages to get these words out, and she hates it that it sounds like she can't put two words together without blanking out.

Nicky, however, pays no attention to her suggestion. "You know what? I should take my shirt off. It's hot in here."

"No, keep it on. I don't want to have to kick girls off you."

Her attempt at a joke comes off… well, obviously not as she had intended, because he looks up from his shirt and flashes her a heart-stopping smile. "Was that you flirting with me, Kaylie?"

Kaylie almost chokes on air. "What? No. That wasn't flirting. That was a suggestion."

There is a moment of silence in which all she can hear is the deafening beat of the music and her own heartbeats racing along with it. God, he's so close. And he seems to be leaning towards her. Is he going to kiss her? Oh my God.

(Would that be so bad, though? If she's being honest, she's kind of wondered what it'd be like to kiss him. They'd had so many moments where their lips were just a breath away from each other, that she realizes that her body has developed some sort of anticipation for it...)

She's bracing herself with excited panic, but he just rests her forehead against hers and sighs. The touch seems to burn her, and makes her feel as though she's sprouted a thousand extra nerve endings. Her stomach seems to be unraveling; she's so uncomfortable and yet… the feeling doesn't seem foreign to her.

"This is a lot like that time at the Emmys after-party," he says softly, completely confusing her. Is this… older Nicky? "Are we still not kissing in public?"

Kaylie is entirely unsure of how to handle this drunk Nicky situation, but there's only one thing she can think of to do. Get him out of there. There are too many people watching, and by all the looks and the paparazzi they've had to avoid, it's starting to sink in that she's a very public figure. "We need to go to our rooms. Room."

Stealthily she pulls him out, and is only able to relax when she finally closes the suite's door behind her and watches Nicky sit down on the bed heavily. Now that the lighting is better, she can see that Nicky has spill on his shirt and is… not as pulled together as he was when they left the house.

Kaylie approaches him reluctantly, afraid that she'll fall under his spell again and become brain-dead. "Nicky, you should shower and then go to sleep."

"I don't want to…" he murmurs, but stands up unsteadily and only makes it to the bathroom door before he leans on the wall and Kaylie dashes after him, terrified that he's going to fall, hit his head and—who knows?—maybe lose even more of his memory. Or, he might remember everything. Well, what if he did? Wouldn't that—

Her thoughts are interrupted by Nicky's low laugh as he stares at her. There's something in his gaze that immediately reminds her that this is her husband, and they have sex on a regular basis—that's why he looks at her like he knows every detail of her body. It doesn't help her feel any more comfortable with it, however.

"You look so hot."

"Thanks. Um. Yeah. The make-up took forever..." What exactly is she supposed to do, here? Flirt back so he won't be uncomfortable? Ignore him?

"Tonight, I have every intention of getting another noise complaint from the room next door."

Oh my God.

She's mortified, and yet… the way he's looking at her… she can't help feeling like she's nude, even with her dress still on. And frankly, it's kind of turning her on.

"I won the hot wife competition…" His murmured words make her blush and lose her breath. He tries to push himself off the wall, but Kaylie holds him in place and he doesn't seem to notice. "Did you know," he tells her in a mumbled drawl, "that the male locker room at the Rock had a poster of you in a red leo? And every guy had a crush on you, but I got you." He laughs again, and reaches out to grab her hand. "I got you."

The implied intimacy when he takes her hand and squeezes it snaps her out of her lust-induced stupor and drags her attention back to the fact that clearly he's the old Nicky and she isn't sure what kind of ground she's treading on. Is she supposed to pretend that she's older Kaylie, too, and act like his wife? "Uh… that's great." She really has to shower him, though… "Nicky, take off your shirt."

"You take it off," he whispers sultrily, eyeing her in that same sexually-charged way that made her unable to breathe properly just a few minutes ago.

"Fine." Anything to get him to the bathroom. She takes a deeper breath than necessary and runs her hand over the fabric of the shirt, scared by how much she's enjoying feeling his muscles beneath it. Carefully, she pulls it over his head and then can't help raking her eyes over the exposed chest, admiring what years of gymnastics have sculpted.

Jesus Christ. She's married to the hottest guy in the planet.

"Well… uh… um… you…" Get it together, Kaylie, she has to tell herself. "Take off… your pants."

"When are you going to start taking your clothes off, too?" he asks with a frown, and stumbles forward, embracing her in a hug. "My head hurts so much…" His voice is different now, the sensual undertones completely gone, so she pulls back, examines him again, and decides that this is the younger Nicky re-emerging.

"Nicky, you're just drunk."

"I know… I can't remember how many drinks I had…"

"Yeah, I can't remember either, but…" She trails off when she notices that he's staring down her dress, at her breasts. "Uh… you're… kind of… staring."

Kaylie is still trying to process how drunk he is to have all his guard down like this, when suddenly he blurts out "I want to kiss you. All the time," and her heart stops for a moment.

"What?"

"Why can't I get the sex flashbacks?" he whines, running a hand over her waist and settling them on her hip.

Oh. My God.

Kaylie is too taken aback to react, so it takes her a few moments to finally speak. "You can kiss me when you're sober." What the... why is she giving him permission? And if he's sober, doesn't that mean that he'll know what he's doing? Does he even want to kiss her when he's sober? Wait—has he been wanting this since this whole thing started, and the drunkenness has brought it out?

"Do you want to kiss me?" His seriousness breaks the smiles he's been beaming at her ever since his eyes settled on her chest.

Should she be honest? Is he going to remember this in the morning? He better not… "Yes."

"All the time?"

She can't help the sigh that leaves her. "Yes."

"Good! Then I'm not the only one suffering..."

Kaylie is mentally begging God to safeguard her restraint—and also to ensure that Nicky doesn't remember this in the morning—when she leads him to the bathroom and helps him remove the rest of his clothing. She's "seen" his nakedness before, of course. The dreams were very vivid, after all. But this... Jesus... she's trying hard not to look but it's all just there, and the size is very impressive, and she can't stop stealing peaks. Shouldn't this be weirder? She wants to touch him all over, and isn't sure anymore that this isn't another dream she's having.

Carefully she manages to quickly bathe him while he grumbles about a headache and the fact that he doesn't want to do some Sports Illustrated interview next week. Finally, they're done and Kaylie controls him enough that he's able to dress himself, collapsing onto the bed immediately afterward.

She can't do much after that except sit on the bed and watch him sleep, noticing the pattern of his breathing. With her eyes, she traces his jaw and the shape of his eyebrows, and barely contains the urge to run his hands over his handsome face. The more she looks at him, the more she wants him, and she feels like she's a boiling pot that's about to explode. It just feels so wrong and so right at the same time that she's strongly attracted to him, and everyday it gets worse.

"You can kiss me in the morning" she murmurs quietly. "If you remember."

What's wrong with her? Why can't she shake this feeling off—this feeling that he really, really means the world to her and that she misses him even when he's right there, beside her? Frustrated, she sighs and tries to sleep, too, praying under her breath that she won't have an even livelier dream. But she's actually seen him naked in real life now, so maybe another dream won't faze her?

Yeah. Right.


	6. I get to show you around

**A/N: Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone! If you are anything like me, you're still recovering from a food coma. Sorry I couldn't update on Thursday, as usual, but I hope this chapter will make up for it. Thanks for the awesome reviews. Please keep 'em coming because your feedback is really are what keeps us writers going.**

* * *

CHAPTER 6: I get to show you around

What's that noise? Who... what...

Nicky slowly, lazily opens his eyes and can hear the small thumps of footsteps crossing the suite to and fro. He knows it's Kaylie. He knows that. But... did something happen last night? There was a party... he remembers drinking till he couldn't feel his hands. All that because he thought he needed to loosen up to be a good enough date for Kaylie, who looked so, so beautiful that he kept losing his train of thought when his eyes settled on her.

Does he really need to get up? He can't remember ever waking up exhausted, but apparently there is a first time for everything.

Damn. Something is really wrong with him. He hears Kaylie, still pacing and humming some song he doesn't recognize and he feels that wave of uncontrollable feelings take hold of him again. Like he really just wants to look at her, and have her look at him, and... and what? He just wishes she liked him as much he apparently likes her, that's all. So he won't wake up another day feeling like he's feeling like now, like he's an idiot because she's going about her day as usual and he's not. He's thinking about her way too much, and he already knew she was attractive, but now it's handicapping him, making his breathing shallower and freezing his brain cells. And there are the other things... like, how she's funny. Or how she's much smarter than he had thought.

And he's married to her. Like, she belongs to him, or at least officially. It's been half a week and he still doesn't know how to process this. His twenty-year-old self thought marriage was going to be a good idea, and he really wishes he knew why. They're so young, and he's only dated a few girls, so how did he know Kaylie was the one? He must have really loved her, is all he can come up with. And that would explain it, wouldn't it? How it's possible that he's fallen so hard, so fast, for Kaylie? The feelings were already there, remnants of the older Nicky. So these horrible feelings aren't his fault! What a relief!

But he woke up three days ago with a certain amount of... "love" (UGH. LOVE) for her, and now it's bigger than before. So... hypothetically speaking, of course, it's possible that in these three days, the feelings... grew? So maybe these feelings are kind of his after all, and he can't blame them on the older Nicky? Yeah... the relief is completely gone, and he's embarrassed and uneasy again.

He needs to stop thinking about this. About her. Because he's wandering into dangerous territory—he's almost admitting that he likes her more than he should, or needs to, and it's just too much for him to handle. Especially since Kaylie thinks of him as an eighteen-year-old moron who didn't even want to stand next to her in photographs.

He sits up and is unable to raise his head because it's so bright and there's a beginning of a headache coming on.

"Hey. Good morning." Kaylie's greeting makes him look up a little too quickly and his head spins a little. "How are you feeling?"

God. Her hair. Her legs. HER FACE. He needs to stop staring. He could probably push aside thoughts about his feelings for her, but the attraction is just too overwhelming. Every one of her smiles feels like a slap on his face.

"Uh.. shitty... what time is it?"

"Ten," she answers simply, sitting on the edge of the bed and extending a mug of coffee to him, which he gratefully takes. Her eyes follow his movements as he drinks, and then she adds lightly, "you were quite the party animal last night."

Yes, he probably was. Because he was drunk and the alcohol kept pushing him to impress Kaylie and get her to like him.

"Yeah," he agrees with dismay, "I think I remember everything." He hears her choke a bit on her juice and looks at her quizzically. "What?"

"Everything?" she mumbles uncomfortably, and he nods, frowning. What's wrong with her? "Even the... shower?"

"Oh..." Of course. She stripped him and showered him. Now he recalls that part; he didn't remember everything after all. When he watches her as he takes a gulp of his coffee and feels the caffeine healing his hangover, he notices just how painfully uneasy she is. "Yeah. Enjoyed the view?" he jokes, hoping to diffuse some of the awkwardness. She's visibly startled by his boldness, but shifts into a smirk.

"Eh. The abs could use some work."

They both begin to laugh at her feigned indifference, and he only gets serious again when he thinks about how much of a disadvantage he is at right now. He's spent the last few days practically ogling her all day, embarrassed by how enormously attracted he is to her, and meanwhile, she's been having sex dreams and has seen him naked. And knowing what kind of thoughts her looks have been provoking in him, he deduces that he probably spent the entire night hitting on her.

Oh, jeez... how embarrassing.

"I'm sorry if I... acted a little out of line yesterday," he says apologetically, then unwraps a hotel chocolate from the bedstand and chews on it to mask his blushing.

Kaylie looks at him and smiles. "You were on husband mode. It was funny. No need to apologize."

"I don't remember anything I said, but I assume I was inappropriate, and yeah, I do need to apologize."

"What would make you assume that?" Kaylie asks, genuinely interested, innocently taking a sip from her juice.

Crap. How can he explain this?

"Well... truth is... you're... really... attractive...?" IDIOT. DUMBASS.

"Okay," she nods, encouraging him to go on. It's at that moment that he figures he has nothing to lose and might as well tell her everything.

"And I don't know what's wrong with me, but I think that even though I forgot a bunch of things, my feelings for you haven't gone away with the memories, and I might have complained a lot about this new life but I think it's actually okay, especially the part about you being in it, and nowadays everything you do turns me on and I don't know how to turn myself off." Once his rant is over he realizes just how much he's said. And how he had never intended to reveal this much. WHERE THE HELL WAS HIS FILTER?

For her part, Kaylie is silent. The only thing that betrays her shock is the fact that one of her eyebrows is slightly raised. She isn't blinking, and he has a hard time telling if she's even breathing. He's overtaken by fear that he's said too much, and that mentioning the part about turning him on might have scared her off permanently.

"I think you've said everything that's been going on in my mind as well."

Huh? So he hasn't scared her off?

Instinctively, he slides over to be closer to her, interested in what else she has to say. And also interested in staring from a more convenient distance.

"It's kind of surprising, really." She's mumbling now and her voice is so low that he has to lean in a bit to hear her. "That it's not hard to see you as a husband."

"No, it's not hard to see you as my wife, either," he agrees, wanting to nod for emphasis, but finding it incredibly hard to move. Or breathe.

Jesus, this girl is really hot. He's just noticed that all she's wearing is her underwear and a shirt—no pants. HE NEEDS TO STOP STARING.

"I actually... can't wait till I remember everything," she continues slowly, sounding like she's saying more than she's saying. But Nicky can't think properly because she's just laid her hand on his and it's distracting him a lot.

"Whatever I said yesterday when I was drunk and flirting with you, I probably meant it," he blurts out without being able to hold those words in. Is it a good thing that he can voice his thoughts like this, when all his life he's always held them all in?

Kaylie cocks her head to the side slightly, looking like what he's saying is amusing her (which is good, because he was afraid he might have creeped her out). "There was one thing you said that kind of stood out."

Oh, my God. He probably said something perverted that creeped her out, didn't he?

"What?" he asks reluctantly, regretting that whole voicing your thoughts thing.

"You said," she began, and turned her body towards him, so that now he can see every freckle and even the way sunlight changes the color of her eyes, "that you want to kiss me all the time."

SHIT.

"Oh?" Why is his voice getting higher pitched? Get a grip, Russo! "Really. All the time."

"Yeah," she nods, pursing her lips (and he knows she's actually trying to hold a laugh in). "You put a lot of emphasis on the 'all the time' part."

What the hell is he supposed to do now? What the hell can he say?

"I bet you were kind of... creeped out, huh?" Please say no.

She laughs at his mumbling. "No, you asked me whether I felt it too, and I said yes. 'All the time?'" she recites, imitating his voice, then continues with another laugh, "'yes.'"

He's supposed to do something, he knows. Kaylie is smiling and they're really close, and he wonders whether she'll slap him or run away if he tries to kiss her right now. All that courage from gymnastics clearly hasn't carried over into courage while dealing with girls.

No, this isn't just a girl. It's Kaylie.

"And when you said 'all the time,'" he asks her in a low, tentative voice, pushing away the distraction that are her lips and her smell, "does that include right now, too?"

Kaylie bites her lip, and if he isn't mistaken, she let her eyes dart down to his mouth before looking him in the eye. "I think so. You know, if we're going to be grammatically correct..." He starts to lean in. "Then all the time..." He finally closes his eyes because now they're so close that he can smell her skin, "means all the time."

When his lips meet hers, Nicky feels as though a sledgehammer has hit him in the ribcage. He can't breathe at all and isn't sure where his hands are. It's almost like there's too much of her—her taste, her smell, the way she feels with her body so close—it's kind of overwhelming, and he's nervous that he doesn't know what he's doing. Quickly, he breaks it off.

"Was that... ok?" he can't help asking when she looks at him questioningly, hands still resting on his shoulders (come to think of it, he had no idea they had been there).

Kaylie shakes her head, eyes glued to his mouth. "No. It was too short. Try again."

That, he does. He calms himself down by remembering that even if this is the first kiss he remembers with Kaylie, this isn't the first one they've shared. And if she's kissing him back, then she likes him and maybe he's not as much as a failure with girls as he thought.

Feeling much more relaxed, he leans into the kiss a bit more and pulls her towards him. He isn't quite sure where he wants her to be, since they're already so close, but he ends up pulling her onto his lap, with her legs on each side of his waist, and even though it instantly makes his heart rate spike, it's a much better position than their previous one.

Kissing Kaylie feels like the most enjoyable thing he's ever done in his life. It makes his entire body buzz, and although he feels the urge to do more, and see and taste more, he's content when he deepens the kiss and hugs her a little closer to him.

Apparently, Kaylie doesn't share his contentment. She pushes him down slowly and continues to kiss him, although now that she's straddling him, it suddenly feels like he's starting to drown in the mattress, and there isn't enough air in the room. Everything in his head has disappeared and all he thinks about is Kaylie. He wants more of her, and he wants all of her.

He knows she's using one of her hands to keep her hair back, and for that reason he thinks it'd be better for her if he were on top, so he rolls her onto her back. With their bodies flush against one another, he hears her release a small moan that sends every part of his body into overdrive.

When he feels one of her hands reach beneath his shirt and slide up and down his side, he can't contain a grunt and in a quick motion, he's broke the kiss and stripped himself of the shirt before leaning down to kiss her again. Immediately, his hands began to graze her stomach and the upper part of her ribcage, although he really wants to advance a little further. Somehow, he slides his hands to her back instead and unclips her bra.

Immediately, Kaylie stiffens, but she actually pushes him off her into a sitting position and slowly, reluctantly, helps him remove her bra and shirt. At the sight of her chest, Nicky shuts down. All he can do is gawk. Kaylie is still a bit embarrassed but he has no idea why; she's perfect.

"I think we need to make this little fairer," she smirks when she watches his face, of course, because he can't close his mouth and resume his breathing. She pushes him onto his back again and pulls off his shorts, before leaning down on top of him and kissing him again.

The room already feels like it's a thousand degrees warmer than he's used to, and he doesn't know how to continue kissing her without wanting to do more. Every part of his body wants her, and he can't form a single coherent thought in his head because Jesus Christ, Kaylie Cruz is almost naked on top of him and he feels drunker now with her kissing than he did with the alcohol. Her hands are lowering his briefs and he's anxious for it, but afraid that this is kind of the point of no return, and what if she... well, wants to return?

Then a thought occurs to him, and with enormous difficulty he breaks off the kiss and stares at her swollen lips and bright, curious eyes.

"I..." He struggles to get the words out, because so many thoughts are rushing through his head right now. "I... don't know how to do this."

"Do what?" she breathes distractedly, and he notices that he's got one of his fingers hooked on her panties. That momentarily renders him speechless.

"Uh... you know. This."

With embarrassment, he waits for her to process what he's just said, and fully expects her to kick him off the bed, or ask for a divorce or something. Instead, she plants a soft kiss on him and smiles in that same way that tells him that she's trying hard not to laugh.

"You know how to do it. Believe me." The way she says it, he envies her sex dreams more than ever. "You know. But you don't remember."

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying," he murmurs.

"Well, I don't mind," she tells him, finally removing his underwear and eyeing the finger he's still got on her panties. "And this could be my payback."

Nicky wonders what an aneurysm is, because he feels like he's having one as he watches her remove her underwear, too. Can he openly gape at her awesome body, or does he have to try a little harder to rein it in—even if a certain appendage of his isn't making it easy to be discreet? "Payback?" he asks in a breathless, hoarse mumble.

"Yeah, when we got married," she begins, laying down, "I was a virgin. And you weren't." He doesn't know how he knows he's supposed to do this, but immediately he lowers his body onto hers and begins to kiss and suck on her neck. Everything feels so good that he wonders whether this is a dream like the ones Kaylie has been having. "So this time, I get to show _you_ around."


	7. If you leave another hickey

CHAPTER 7: If you leave another hickey...

Kaylie is vaguely aware that a phone is ringing, and the sound jars her awake. She opens her eyes and the first thing she sees is someone's chest, pressed against her forehead.

Nicky's chest; hairless and bulging with muscles.

She sits up quickly and watches him for a few moments, grabbing her cellphone from the bedstand and silencing it, not for a moment taking her eyes off the man lying beside her, only partially covered by the white silken sheets.

She's kind of in awe of him. Sex is supposed to be meaningful, she knows, but it definitely changes things and now she can see how much things have shifted for her in this relationship. There's a heavy, bubbly, foreign feeling in her chest—love? Is this really what it feels like? Like she can't tear her eyes away from him for fear that when she turns back, he won't be there any more? For fear that that morning, and all the laughter, the nervousness, the breathlessness, had all been a dream, and she's going to wake up any moment and it's still 2010 and she's still lonely and unhappy Kaylie?

Wait. When did this life in 2014 become better than the one she had in 2010? What's wrong with her? Just yesterday she hated her current predicament and wished they had traveled to the future so they could travel back, and now…

God, he's really handsome. Painfully, astoundingly handsome. So handsome that she lost her train of thought and doesn't want to find it at all.

She thinks about how things worked better when he was going by instinct: when it seemed like he wasn't overthinking things, then he was confident, deliberate, and knowing. When he seemed to realize that as far as he remembered, this was the first time they were having sex, Nicky was a lot more nervous and tentative, as though afraid of misstepping or missing any cues from her. And he stared a lot, like he was memorizing where all her curves and crooks and freckles are. It was flattering, of course, that he was so thoroughly entranced by her body, but that meant she had to get his attention away from appreciating with his eyes, to appreciating with… well, other parts of his body.

Come to think of it, she wouldn't mind it if he appreciated her right now.

Wow. She really feels like a perv now. And she has to admit that she was a little more forward about it than she would have imagined. But she'd gone to bed wanting it so, so much, and when she woke up she saw that somehow, he ended up hugging her from the back protectively, tenderly, like that's how they usually wake up in the morning. Of course that had made everything a hundred times worse—Nicky Russo was spooning her with his incredibly hard and toned body and it just... felt... really, really good. Way too good. So naturally, she jumped off the bed and began to pace the room, nervously making him coffee and serving herself orange juice.

And for that half hour, things had been all right. Sort. Yes, she wanted to stare, and she couldn't stop replaying their movements inside her mind, and yes, she really wanted to do it again, but if she just kept on pacing, she could think about other things. Like how that damn song they performed on karaoke stuck itself in her head, making her unable to stop humming it.

And then he woke up. He smiled at her, laughed with her, and gave her that look that some part of her recognized; a longing to be with her, a fascination with the way she was moving and speaking. And it made her feel so happy and free... and then he kissed her, and felt like she was dissolving...

So yeah—can she really be blamed for practically jumping him?

The cellphone rings again and through its persistence, finally manages to get Kaylie to answer it. Her eyes widen in small alarm when she takes a quick look at the screen and realizes that it's already four in the afternoon.

"Hello?" She tiptoes to the bathroom and wraps herself in a robe.

"Mrs. Russo! Thank God!" It's her assistant. Kaylie remembers the voice and the face, but not the name, and her mind races to recover that information before she needs it.

"Hey..." Anna? Amber? Amy? "What's going on?"

"Your shoot is in less than an hour!" Oh, crap. "The limo is downstairs, but the hotel management told me that there's still a 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign hanging on your door. I'm really sorry I've been calling you for the past hour."

Right. She has a career that she just shoved aside to have morning sex. "I'm getting ready. I'll be downstairs in ten minutes." Her eyes wander over to where Nicky is still soundly asleep and she sighs. "And also, arrange for Nicky's transportation back to our house." Before she hangs up, she remembers to ask, "oh and did he miss practice today?"

"Well, it's Sunday isn't it? Isn't he usually off?"

Relief relaxes her tense muscles. "And did I miss any appointments?"

"I rescheduled your yoga for Monday morning, and postponed your photo shoot for TV Guide on the upcoming episode where Mr. Russo guest stars."

Kaylie involuntarily releases a laugh, standing up to walk towards her room again in order to sort out her clothes. So Nicky is going to guest star in her show? He's going to act? With her? It's a hilarious thought. "Okay. Thanks. I'll be down in a few."

Efficiently, she hangs up and unpacks the clothes that were sent to her room the night before by her assistant—Alice! That was her name!—so she wouldn't have to wear the dress again. When she's finally fully clothed, she finds herself staring at Nicky again. She can't wake him up. The morning's activities were exhausting—and she has to suppress a blush at the thought—and he's also still nursing a hangover.

Gently, she presses a kiss on his lips and feels her breath catch when he sighs softly. Oh my God, she thinks with slight panic, it's so hard to leave him. Swiftly, she exits the suite and makes her way downstairs, where just as she's come to expect, there is a line of paparazzi camped out of the hotel, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kaylie Russo.

* * *

Two hours and five coats of make-up later, Kaylie is still not done with the photo shoot and is channeling all her annoyance to her shoes. She's positive that her shoes have the highest heels known to mankind, and right now they are choking her feet.

"Okay, now lean to your right, place your hand on Austin's shoulder." Kaylie complies, but can't help grumbling under her breath about the heels, thanks to which she's almost at Austin's height. Her white dress is beautiful but very tight and short, too—she's uncomfortably aware that her cleavage is very much on display. And if Austin's wandering gaze is any indication, her boobs look great.

"When is this gonna be over?" Austin asks between clenched teeth as he throws the camera what she knows now is his signature bad-boy grin.

She continues to smile, charmingly tilting her head to accentuate their proximity, and the photographer and shoot director both exclaim compliments. "Right now would be a good time."

She's about to yank her heels off and throw them at the photographer when her eyes snap to the entrance of the set. She swears the lighting dims down momentarily, because all she can see is him.

"What's boy-scout doing here?"

Some of the crew greet Nicky and he's quickly offered a seat and a cup of coffee. Kaylie is finding it incredibly difficult to focus on the cameras and her interaction with Austin when memories of their morning together are constantly flashing in her mind and making the set feel like it's on top of a volcano.

The heels are completely forgotten when their eyes meet and gazes lock. She should look away. She should be looking at the camera, or Austin, but her attention is glued on him, and he knows, because he smiles and offers her a small wave. Can a twenty-year-old's heart stop just like that?

"And… we're done," announces the photo shoot director cheerfully and for some reason unknown to Kaylie, various staff members begin to clap and congratulate each other. "Great work, Kaylie, Austin," he continues to nod towards them and Austin pulls her into a hug, which Kaylie could not be any less involved in, since the only thing she wants really, is just go to Nicky and… yeah… just go to him.

One of the wardrobe staffers turns her, zips her out of the dress, and just as Kaylie is about to protest in her underwear, another staffer wraps her in a robe. In a huff, Kaylie turns to where Nicky was and finds that he's walked closer to where she is, and now he's unexpectedly closer. She walks off the brightly lit stage and approaches him, counting her steps and how many breaths she's taking.

"Hi," he greets with a grin, hands tightly enveloped by his pockets. "So… this is where you work."

"Yeah," she replies uneasily, stiffly, because he's _right there_, and she doesn't know what to do now.

"It's huge."

Is he as nervous as she is? Is he as breathless? "Yes. I got lost a couple of times… how did you get here?"

"Our chauffeur. I asked him to drive me to your work."

"Great. I had wanted you to see it…" And she'd really, really wanted to see him, she thinks with a blush. Just then she notices that some people are throwing curious looks, and understandably so, because they're married and are just standing too many feet away from each other. The scene just oozes awkwardness.

They're _married_, she reminds herself, then urges her body to relax and play the part a little more convincingly—she's an actress after all, right? And didn't she win some sort of award for her acting work? She places a hand on Nicky's chest, figuring that's enough of a heads-up that she's going to kiss him, and then leans towards him and presses her lips against his.

Such a bad, bad, horrible idea.

Kaylie feels him stiffen, and it causes her to double-guess herself, which leads her to stiffen as well. It's a second that stretches into a small eternity, because they're kissing, and the taste and feel of his lips is so, so intoxicating. It's almost like she's suffocating, but nothing in her body tells her to come up for air.

"Whoa, there, lovebirds. Leave some for the bedroom," Austin calls out with a raucous laugh that snaps her back into her senses. She pulls away and feels her self-restraint falter when their eyes meet and all she can think about is that morning; his mouth, his arms, his hair, his smile, his hands...

Focus, Kaylie. "Right. Yes. We should go." She spins on her heel and heads to her trailer, mentally berating herself because things had seemed to be going well until she'd decided that kissing him was a good idea. "Really, Kaylie, really?" she grumbles under her breath, reaching the trailer and pulling down the lever on the door to open it.

In her hurry to leave the set and Nicky, she didn't realize that he was following her. When she enters the trailer and with frustration unties the loose knot holding together her robe, she's startled when she turns and almost bumps into Nicky, who's closing the door behind him and is just as shocked as she is when he sees her semi-naked body inches away from his face.

"Wow. I mean. Uh. Sorry," he manages to apologize, visibly making a strained effort not to look at her. And if she weren't so tense with confusion over how to handle this post-sex situation, she'd probably have found all his fumbling and blushing really adorable. "I'll get out of your trailer now. Let me just... find the, uh..." Of course, he doesn't know how to unlock the door. Because if he did, then he'd be able to make an easy exit and she wouldn't have to approach him and touch his shoulder, but the universe hates her. So yeah. Of course the door isn't going to open.

"You don't really have to leave," she states with a forced smile when he turns to her with alarm after feeling her hand on his shoulder. "You can just... turn around. Or something." He swallows hard, and now she can actually chuckle at how hard he's trying to keep his eyes fixed at a spot behind her, instead of lowering them to look at her face or body. "And... don't be so nervous. You've seen all of this already."

Finally, she's able to relax him, and he smiles back. "Yeah, let me make it even."

Oh, Jesus... he took off his shirt. And he still thinks this is a joke.

"Better now, huh?" His grin is wide and oblivious, and it exists in stark contrast to her instantly uneasy smile. Looking at his muscles and thinking of how much they make her want to touch them makes her feel like she's stretching the corners of her mouth apart trying to go along with the joke.

"Right. Much better." He finally turns and sits down on the bed, while she releases an inaudible sigh and begins to change. "How's the hangover?"

"Completely cured." She's unhooking her bra and putting on another one while he adds, "you know, they did a good job of covering up that hickey."

Kaylie laughs, glad that this allusion to their morning isn't making them even more uncomfortable. "Yeah, the make-up team was a little mad but they're very good," she replies, putting on her panties.

"Mine is still kind of visible, although I don't really bruise easily or anything."

"You don't? I'll have to remember that for next time."

For some reason, Nicky is silent. When she looks up distractedly after adjusting her panties, her eyes lock with his and she realizes what she's just said, and all the layers of meaning underneath it. And with his eyes fixed on her like that, devouring the way she looks, while his shirt is off and she's inebriated by memories and urges, it becomes hard to keep away from him. So hard that she has to grip the counter behind her to hold herself in place.

Nicky stands up.

Oh, no.

He walks towards her, and he's not even blinking. In a second, his face is a whisper away from hers and she just really wants to grab him and do things to him that her usually PG-rated thoughts don't venture into.

But she doesn't. She stands her ground, and waits, controlling her breathing. She'd initiated things last time and there's something in her that tells her to wait. It tells her that she will love seeing him lose control before she does.

Nicky is so close, but he doesn't touch her. And his eyes don't look at her body; instead, they remain on her face, brushing over her hair, chin, mouth, and eyes.

"I kind of had a dream," he breaks the silence, with a voice so deep and raw that it sends small goosebumps down her body. "Guess what we were doing."

How can she get such a thrill out of teasing him and anticipating what will come after? "Hmm... backflips? Swimming? Playing checkers?"

They trade smiles, a second-long reprieve from the heavy, hot atmosphere. "That's a little far off. But I could always show you." Slowly he leans in and gently kisses her neck and Kaylie has to count to three and measure her heartbeats to make sure she doesn't throw him on the bed and show _him_ what she's been dreaming about.

"Nicky, if you leave another hickey, I swear to God..." Her breath hitches when his tongue presses on a particularly sensitive spot; he really knows what he's doing this time around, and it scares her how much she wants this-the urge is even stronger than in that morning. She slides a finger under his chin and raises his head so she can kiss him, but before she does, and just after he's beginning to lean in, she can't help replying to his earlier offer. "Go ahead. Show me."

* * *

**A/N: I was a little apprehensive when I wrote the last chapter, trying to make sure I was being realistic about Nicky's thoughts when he and Kaylie finally did it. So I'm glad the response was positive. I'm not that comfortable with Nicky's POV, thus the fact that I've only written 2 out of 7 chapters in his POV. I guess Kaylie is my comfort zone. :) Thanks so much for your support so far. All the author/story alerts, favorites, and especially the reviews, are deeply appreciated and loved. On another note, does anyone know when the next season of MIOBI is going to air? **


	8. Why are you being a bitch?

**A/N: Another pretty major chapter. Thanks for your continued feedback and support. :D**

* * *

CHAPTER 8: Why are you being a bitch?

"Go ahead. Show me." No words ever spoken managed to make Nicky's body react this way—like it's been set ablaze while his lungs and stomach have been filled with a hot, thick liquid that's pooling in his gut—but it knows what it feels like to have sex with Kaylie, and truth is, he's been wanting to do it again since that morning. Nicky is barely unbuttoning his jeans, fumbling with the buttons because he doesn't want to break their hungry kisses to look down, when they hear a knock on her trailer door and freeze.

"Kaylie, Austin, you ready?"

Kaylie leans back, and away from Nicky, while he notices the wide-eyed panic in her face and wonders why they can't just tell Austin to go away.

"Ger dressed, quick!" she hisses urgently, and immediately begins to throw on her clothes as well. For a moment, Nicky is stunned. Why are they... "I completely forgot; we're supposed to go to dinner with Austin and Kelly Parker tonight," she whispers breathlessly, pausing when she sees that he hasn't put any of his clothes on. "I'd love to carry on what we were doing, but Austin reminded me today that it's been three weeks since we scheduled this, and we've both been weird with them, and I just want them to think we're still normal—and that bra will not fit you."

Nicky had been so occupied on dressing as rapidly as he could, that he didn't notice when, instead of his jacket, he picked up one of her bras from the bed, and was staring at it. That is, until Kaylie's soft laughter brought him back to the trailer. They trade guilty, embarrassed smiles for a short second while Nicky feels that tug in his chest again, like he'd do anything to make this moment last forever. But another boisterous voice from outside the trailer interrupts them again.

"Kaylie! Get your ass out here! Don't make me tell the producers that you and Nick are having sex in your trailer again."

Immediately, and as though on cue, Kaylie pops the door open with a small smile, although Nicky can see the way her posture betrays annoyance and defiance as she watches Austin and Kelly's easy smiles.

"Hola, mujer," greets Kelly with enthusiasm buried underneath about fifty layers of detachment. Kaylie frowns slightly, but steps out and then looks behind her shoulder to make sure he's leaving as well. He closes the door behind him and hurries to Kaylie's side, figuring it's safer to stick with her since he can't remember anything about these two aside from the truck sex with Kelly. Which isn't the memory he would had picked to remember had he a choice.

"The limo is waiting," Austin spoke up, apparently after noticing Kelly attempting to meet Kaylie's eyes while she averted hers to the ground, then to Nicky, then to the trailer.

"Great. Let's go," Nicky agreed, faking a smile since Kaylie wasn't bothering to do it.

Thirty awkward, long minutes later, they had arrived at a very, very expensive-looking Asian restaurant but Kaylie had excused herself to the bathroom once they got to their table, and after waiting a few angry seconds, Kelly excused herself as well.

"Are they fighting again?" asked Austin immediately as soon as the girls were out of earshot.

How was he supposed to know, wondered Nicky. As far as he knew, the Rock girls and Kelly Parker resorted to everything except voodoo to make each other miserable. So what—were they friends now? Wait. Was he friends with Austin Tucker?

* * *

Kaylie feels herself being pushed inside one of the stalls as she enters the bathroom, and just as she's turning around, ready to throw punches, she's met with Kelly's furious, narrowed eyes. Kaylie's wondering whether anyone saw her getting pushed and will be a witness in court when her corpse is discovered, when her attention is grabbed by Kelly's low voice: "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What are you talking about?" No, really—Kaylie wants to know. Why does she look like one of the horsemen of the apocalypse? Kaylie's been keeping out of her way to avoid conflict, so what is she doing wrong? Why—

"Why are you being a bitch and ignoring me?"

Oh... so she wasn't supposed to—

"I'm not—"

"What the fuck is the deal here?" Kelly's words are defiant and Kaylie thinks that maybe she's inviting her to a fight in the parking lot, but the girl has always been a professional at insulting and challenging others with emotions completely under check, and it's only her eyebrows' slight furrowing that betray that she's genuinely interested in hearing her response to these questions.

But what is Kaylie supposed to say? That she doesn't care about that horrible flashback in which they were friends, because she's still stuck in 2010 and back then Kelly had all the charisma of a prison warden?

"I'm sorry, Parker. It's just that..." I don't remember you as my friend, Kaylie mentally finishes her sentence, and sighs.

"Parker. _Parker_?" Kelly crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, like she's studying a calculus equation and not a tired, weary gymnast. "Something's off... about you."

Oh, crap.

"You've been acting strange since you came back from your vacation with Nicky."

Damn it.

Kelly takes a determined step forward and invades Kaylie's comfort zone. "Why are you avoiding me?" They're about the same height but Kaylie feels very, very small then; Kelly could scare an MMA fighter if she wanted to.

"Well... uh... hmm..." She should just keep silent since she's being unable to string two words together, but maybe her rambling is buying her time, and that's what she needs.

Kelly's patience is running thinner and thinner, but it impresses Kaylie that she's actually visibly trying to keep her temper under control. "I'm usually conscious of when I snap into bitch mode and offend someone, and I can't remember doing anything remotely offensive against you." Oh, so the Mexican flag comment was just her usual morning talk?

"It's... I..." Please help me, God. "I'm not sure..." Where's Nicky? Where's everyone? Why can't someone just come in, and save her?

"Get your fucking words out." This very intimidating command seems physically to push Kaylie; she can now feel her back press against the cold wall, and it prickles her skin unpleasantly.

Kaylie wonders, for a brief, panicked second, whether Kelly would actually resort to physical violence, and she's opening her mouth to utter some (hopefully) equally intimidating threats, but instead the high-pitched whine loudly bursts into her brain.

_Kaylie is unpacking her luggage, and pauses to survey her Olympic gear. She runs her fingers over the delicate, yet sturdy fabric; the red, white, and blue colors that make her heart swell with pride, and her name, stitched underneath the American flag._

_This is it. She's the captain of the 2012 US Olympic Team, and... she's terrified. Overjoyed, yes, but whenever she allows herself to be excited and realize what a huge accomplishment this is, it's like... her heart and her stomach are overwhelmed, and—_

"_Oh, great. As if the Olympics aren't a harrowing enough experience." Kaylie looks up from her outstretched uniform and is immediately annoyed to see Kelly Parker standing at the doorway to her room._

_Kaylie shifts into battle mode instantly. "You know, as the grim reaper, don't you have other people to torture? Other lives to torment?"_

_Kelly snorts and nonchalantly throws her two bags onto the bed beside Kaylie's. "Don't make me shave your hair off while you're sleeping, Cruz. Although, some crop circles on your scalp might actually improve your hairstyle..." Calmly, she plops down on the bed and proceeds to take out an iPod and headphones; before she can begin to listen to whatever horrible music she has on the device, Kaylie crosses the distance between their beds and stands beside Kelly's lying form, crossing her arms with irritation._

"_No, really, what are you doing here, Parker?"_

"_Right now?" Kelly doesn't even meet her eye, and Kaylie involuntarily balls her hands into fists. "Looking through my music library. I'll pick whatever song is loud enough to drown your voice out. Actually, I'd listen to a recording of one of Hitler's speeches if that meant I didn't have to listen to you."_

"_What. Are you. Doing. In my. Room," Kaylie asks through clenched teeth, figuring that Kelly will have to run out of insults some time and actually answer her._

"_Oh, we're roommates, captain." OH MY GOD. WHAT HAPPENED TO EMILY?"Don't look so horrified; I almost shot the team manager when he told me, but I smiled through it, and you should, too." ONE MONTH OF THIS?_

"What's wrong with you?" Kelly's inquisitive voice snaps Kaylie back into the set, and it's like her brain is still settling into place before another whine makes her eyes shut. This flash of memory is quick, but incredibly heavy with emotions and feelings that Kaylie can't identify. This memory is only a second long, like a snapshot. Everyone is at a club—Emily, Lauren, Payson, Summer, and others from the Rock—and Kaylie knows this is her bachelorette party, and they're in Las Vegas. Kelly and her are sitting close, on a kiss-shaped couch while everyone laughs, and then Kelly is giving her a dildo-shaped water bottle, and joking effortlessly like always, and that's when the memory fades off... as they smile wide at each other and Kelly makes some obscene gestures that make Kaylie laugh freely, because this is Kelly Parker. This is the girl who stuck by her during the Olympics (as she was trying so hard not to relapse into anorexia) even though all they shared was a room and mutual hatred. This is the girl who admitted that Kaylie was intimidating, and a little too perfect; the girl who texted her when they landed at their respective airports after the Olympics and told her that if she wasn't such a great person, there'd be hell to pay for stealing her gold medal from her.

Someone's shaking her. "Kaylie, if you don't tell me how many fingers I'm holding up, I'm going to scream until someone calls 911." Kaylie's breathing is sort of ragged, but only because Kelly's worried face can be seen from between the three fingers shes holding two inches away from Kaylie's eyes.

"Stop," Kaylie breathes, slapping Kelly's fingers down, staring at the floor and attempting to stabilize her heartbeats. "Oh my God. You're my friend. Oh my God—we're friends." She looks up and sees a thoroughly confused and wide-eyed Kelly drawing a breath, and Kaylie figures that this is the part where she should be stopped, lest she really summon the paramedics. "You were holding three fingers! Don't scream!"

"What the fuck just happened?" Kaylie's mind is still scattered, still senseless, while Kelly blathers on. "Are you having a seizure? Because I failed first aid, and played poker with my tutor instead of studying, just so you know, and—"

"I can't remember you."

When she finally says it, when she finally puts into words the frustration she's felt around _everybody_, it's like her lungs are deflating, and her heart is beating more freely, as though whatever was weighing it down has been lessened, just a bit. Just enough.

"Huh?"

In one breath, Kaylie summarizes their predicament, anxious because nothing will stop Kelly from telling everyone and ruining their lives, and maybe just laughing at her face for good measure. "Nicky and I hit our heads, and our memories went back to some injury we had in 2010, so we can't remember the last four years, so I have amnesia and don't remember you."

Kelly steps back, raising a single eyebrow high on her forehead and crossing her arms. "Amnesia."

"Yes."

"You don't remember the Olympics?" Swallowing hard, Kaylie shakes her head. "Your wedding?" Kaylie feels herself blush, for some reason, probably because just an hour ago she and Nicky were mauling each other in her trailer. Kelly's features soften, like it's sinking in that this isn't a joke, and it's something that genuinely bothers and saddens Kaylie. "The show?"

"No, Kelly, I don't remember the show," Kaylie speaks up, somewhat annoyed now. "I don't remember anything that happened the last four years, save for some little flashbacks here and there."

"Oh my God. When is it coming back? Your memory, I mean?"

She's asked that of herself a thousand times, every day. Every time someone approaches her and she has to feign knowledge of what they're talking about; every time she looks at her medals; every time she looks at Nicky.

"I have no idea," she replies quietly, staring at her knotting fingers. There will be a day, she thinks, in which she won't be able to pull off faking normality, and someone who should not know about the amnesia will notice.

"What do you want to know, then?" Kelly's question brings her out of her depressed pondering.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I can tell you what happened, and even provide some colorful commentary," the girl offers with a helpful, if slightly strange smile (by "colorful commentary" she guesses Kelly means that she'll add lots of f-words and references to sex). It's still so unsettling to see Kelly being nice to her. "What do you want to know first?"

* * *

"So..." Nicky isn't sure what to say. The girls have been gone for about ten minutes and they haven't as much as ordered yet, because, according to Austin, Kelly will sleep with her vibrator instead of him for a week if he orders for her. That had been... an entirely too awkward and cringe-worthy admission, but Austin seemed to be really comfortable joking about this with him. Nicky wants, really badly, to ask whether it bothers him at all that over the course of four years they apparently swapped girlfriends, but he knows that if they really are friends, they've talked about it already. And maybe it's still an uncomfortable subject—who knows?

"They each weight about 90 pounds, right? So how much pee can they hold?" Austin is wondering aloud, eyes wistfully wandering over to the food on other tables. "Unless they're doing some number two."

Ugh. They're in a restaurant! Why is Austin talking about bowel movements?

"I think my right bicep is bigger than my other one."

Finally! A subject neither too disgusting, nor regarding events he doesn't remember. Nicky can't contain a small grin, and prepares himself to talk about an area in which he has particular expertise.

* * *

"And then, I told them yeah, I got it—my brand of bitch would be great on television, but that I'd never do a reality show. So instead, they got me to write it."

"I knew it. The moment I read that last script and I was telling that other gymnast character that her outfit made her look like roadkill, I knew I was playing you."

* * *

"Well, Kelly told me that it makes my ass look more toned, too."

"Well. That's... good, I guess. What kind of weights do you use for that?"

"What—Kaylie doesn't like your ass?"

"You know, that's a good question."

* * *

"You don't have to tell me how we became friends. I kind of remembered it. When you invaded my room in the Olympic Village and told me we were roommates."

"We weren't friends then. You still told people that you were worried I was going to shave your hair in your sleep. No, Nick and I got Emily Kmetko reassigned to another room so I could keep an eye on you and your eating habits."

"I was... still anorexic... in the Olympics?"

"No, but you were kind of... tempted. I think. Either that, or you didn't like my cooking."

* * *

"I just don't get what the big deal with jewelry is. Like, when I proposed to Kel, she slapped me and told me that the ginormous ring I bought her was an embarrassment to engagement rings everywhere. Remember when you proposed to Kaylie?"

"Oh... well... uh... not really."

"Then good thing IYouTube still has the video!"

* * *

"What happened with Emily, then?"

"She's touring the world with Damon Young. Who by the way, is the only guy in his band who doesn't smell homeless. I think they're in France right now. He's pretty big there; they like the sensitive-looking dudes who look like they cry after sex."

"That was... completely unnecessary, Parker. But it's so great to hear they're still together! How about Lauren?"

"Who?"

"Lauren. Lauren Tanner."

"Oh. The bride of Chucky. Yeah, you two had a big fight just before your wedding and I don't think you've talked to her since."

* * *

"Ha! It still gets me, man. Kel is still telling me my people-in-costumes-caroling-in-an-airborne-flight proposal wasn't good enough."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Yeah, I'm hungry too."

"I can't believe I did that..."

"Say what? What was that, man? Couldn't hear you. By the way, I'm calling the waiter and ordering. I can do without sex for a week, but 5 minutes without food and I'll start eating the tablecloth."

* * *

"There's something I don't understand. What do you remember of Nicky?"

"Four years ago, we didn't really like each other. I didn't know him well."

"Yeah. Exactly. So why did you sleep with him yesterday?"

"Huh? Excuse me?"

"Well, that hickey that took the make-up team an hour to cover up came from somewhere."

* * *

"And you know what? I don't know why she's forcing me to stop naming my cars and motorcycles. So one of them is called Kelly's Boobs. So what? It's my best bike. She should be flattered. Hey, dude, you sure you don't want some of this steak?"

"No... I... Tucker, do you remember what happened to me? How did I get to that point where I just didn't care about looking like a dumbass when I proposed to her?"

"You didn't look like a dumbass. You looked like a man who loved his girl. You had been wanting to lock her down, and she finally seemed like she was going to give in, so you took the chance."

* * *

It's been an hour. Her hunger is steadily increasing, steadily becoming more bothersome, but right now she's much too focused on her recent discoveries. She had to quite obviously dodge the question about sex with Nicky, but now Kelly is off on a tangent of how she organized her bachelorette party for her and made sure everything looked and tasted good—especially the penis-shaped candies she'd "bought with love."

It's five hundred types of crude and disgusting, but Kaylie laughs. Who knew the Antichrist had an actual soul and was fun to be with?

"Of course, I had to check with your mother, who wanted to sing at the party, but backed out when I told her about the strippers. I even offered to hire one that looked like Erik Estrada—there's gotta be one—but she still said no..."

"Oh!" Kaylie straightens and feels the corners of her mouth stretch into an even wider smile. "Where's my mom? I sort of talked to her, but she was in a cruise and she hasn't come back yet."

Kelly leans against the wall and shrugs. "I'm surprised you don't remember this. Your mother is a singer at the most expensive cruise in the world."

Well, this is news... "She's a singer? In a cruise?" Kaylie remembers how passionate her mother was about singing and performing, how every note and dance move seemed to transport her back to the stage in which she owned the world and captivated every pair of eyes in the room. And remembering that makes her glad to hear this latest update, even if she misses her mother an awful, awful lot.

"Yeah. I'd buy you a ticket so you could see her next time we get a filming break but I'd have to sell a organ to afford it."

"So my dad lives with her in the cruise?" The first red flag pops up when Kelly flinches, like her question was a slap. Then, when she pushes herself off the wall and sighs, Kaylie begins to worry.

"Your dad... and your mom..." Why is she hesitating? The smile that had been playfully bending her face starts to melt right off, and Kaylie involuntarily begins to wince. There's a sick, tense feeling crawling up her spine and cooling her stomach unpleasantly, like it's bracing her body for a fall. "Your parents divorced in 2011. Your dad stayed in Boulder, while your mom took off to do the cruise ship thing."

Something inside Kaylie shifts when Kelly tells her that part. It's like feeling something burning, being consumed by flames, inside her gut. She was riding an incredible high from finding out that all her friends were fine (well, she could find out about Lauren later), and that her mother had returned to her career of choice. And the marriage to Nicky didn't seem that bad lately—it was so, so, easy to imagine herself in love with him; it was almost scary.

But news of her parents' divorce are an anvil, dragging her down from that high and forcing her to acknowledge that that little pain in her chest when she talked to her mother hadn't been imagined; it'd been real. And her so-called best friend is telling her how badly she handled the news back in 2010 or 2011, or whatever—apparently she ran away?—but can't notice how she isn't exactly taking it well this time around, either. "But," Kelly beams a carefree smile, "they were great at your wedding. Which I didn't help plan because the wedding planner filed for that restraining order after I told her that I'd make her face look like as put-together as a ransom letter if she didn't make sure..."

Kaylie is remembering the divorce; not the usual way, with flashes of scenes and images and sounds. No, it all comes to her at once, and she realizes that this is exactly how she felt when her parents broke the news to her that their six-month separation needed to be permanent: hopeless, trapped, and on the verge of losing her shit entirely. She had started to feel twenty years old, like these newfound responsibilities were part of her routine, and she belonged in this world. But now she's sixteen again and every memory is just so painful. She has a feeling everything will feel better if she can just breathe—if she can just squeeze one deep breath in, to relax her knotting muscles, things will feel like they're looking up. If she could just...

All those medals, and trophies, and trying to behave and stay away from boys, and be the daughter they wanted; all of it was in vain, because in the end she just couldn't make them love each other enough. And all her hopes and dreams were wasted, because the medals were simply shiny objects and now she was going to be alone, surrounded by shiny objects.

She's bending, and bending, and bending, and about to break.

She realizes how open this wound still is, and wonders why it's still so uglily festering inside her. Every time she thinks about her parents and about her own marriage, her stomach turns inside out and her chest feels like it's being crushed by some invisible weight. And it's true, isn't it, that you can't undo patterns? And clearly, the pattern here is that everyone will cheat, everyone will leave her, and there won't be anything in her power for her to do to keep things together.

She's strangely calm now, as Kelly continues her story about how she had to be talked into competing at Nationals in 2011, and with the anorexia and her parents' divorce, silver was the only thing she could get. And Kaylie can't stop wondering whether the anorexia is what finally drove her parents apart, because she knows it was her fault. Just like she subconsciously knew her way around Nicky's body, she knows this.

Kelly is telling her about her big comeback, and how she bounced back from all the bad in 2011 and won Nationals, Worlds, and the Olympics in 2012. She seems really proud of Kaylie's feats, although Kaylie herself can't bring herself to care. Her entire life is shit.

She watches Kelly's confident smile and tight, controlled movements, and feels very out of place suddenly. Kelly doesn't mean to always be so put-together, but she is. It's obvious that her flawless, excited smiles aren't calculated, but she's so...perfect, that she dims everything else in the room and makes it impossible for people to think this isn't all a big act.

Kaylie can't look at her friend anymore. Instead, her eyes settle on her arms, resting stiffly on the table. Her right bicep is a tad sore—a reminder of the injection she took two days prior. Injection of what, though?

"Kelly." It's just a name, but it sounds like a curse word, the way she says it under her breath, resenting it.

"What?" And of course Kelly doesn't notice.

"That day in the studio, where you said I was a Christmas tree and I ended up bitching at you," she takes a breath and watches Kelly smile fondly, like offending each other is how they bond, "some doctor gave me a shot, said something about it being given to me weekly? What's in it?"

Kelly's smile falters for half a second, so fast that Kaylie thinks that maybe she didn't really see it. But that heralds the return of that uneasy, worried feeling inside her stomach. "Oh. Well. Mood stabilizers and nausea suppressants." Kaylie raises an eyebrow, silently questioning Kelly's reply. "For... your pregnancy. You're eight weeks, I think, maybe nine."

That something that was bending and bending snaps broken, and causes a wave of anger, confusion, dread, and—of all things—nausea, to sweep her in one second-long punch to the gut. The rest is aftershock.

"I'm pregnant." It's a frosty, strangled statement that maybe was meant to sound like a question, and it just hangs there in the space between them while Kaylie sits, immobile, and Kelly's eyes begin to display panic and desperation.

"I thought you knew. I mean, tracking your period and—"

"You think you'd be tracking your period if you woke up with four years of amnesia?"

She's surprisingly composed, she knows, while Kelly is actually visibly struggling to act and talk the best way possible.

Kelly is swallowing hard, so, so worried about how Kaylie is reacting to this. And Kaylie is amusing herself with this, because thinking about the alternative would make her fall apart right now. Finally, Kelly speaks. Or rather, murmurs. "You...were happy about it. Well, when you told me..."

"I'm sixteen, you know. In here," Kaylie replies unemotionally, making a slight motion to her head. "That means I don't love Nicky, hate you, have no memory of ever even meeting Austin, am still fighting to keep my parents together, and...don't want a child."

"Kaylie—"

"Did you not get the memo? I don't remember you, Parker! You're still the bitch who taunted me about my mother having an affair! So fuck you! Leave me alone!"

In a swift, smooth movement, Kaylie grabs her bag, slams the stall door open, and dashes out of the restroom, disoriented by the lights, the darkness, the music, and by all the horrible things four years brought to her life.

* * *

Nicky feels sick. So, so, sick. Sure, it's mostly a pride thing; the fact that he tainted his Olympic experience because he was a love-sick teenager. How could he have proposed to Kaylie like that? Didn't that seem like too much to anyone? Why didn't anyone give him a heads-up about how he'd feel about it in a few years?

Although, the way Austin describes it, older Nicky apparently still likes that stunt. And if he's being honest, seeing Kaylie's wide, brighter-than-the-Sun smile almost convinced him that he would, indeed, have done it all over again. Even now. Even now, that he's not sure he loves her, but feels like he might. Even now, without being certain, he'd probably pull that stunt again if it meant seeing her smile like that, like he's the best and only reason she has to be happy.

Abruptly, he hears some shuffling and running and turns, only to be met by the sigh of Kaylie's pale, worried figure running out of the bathroom, followed by a panicked Kelly. Before he can even raise himself from his seat, she's out the door, and by the time he reaches it, she's nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell happened?" Austin demands angrily, and Nicky doesn't need to stop scanning the street anxiously, to turn around and see that Austin and Kelly are right behind him.

"I was telling her about their life those last four years, and then when it got to—"

Nicky whips around and interrupts her. "She told you?" He can see curious glances from other restaurant patrons, whispering and nudging one another and amusing themselves with this.

"What are you two talking about?"

Kaylie pays no attention to her confused fiancee; instead, she approaches Nicky with an apprehensive, worried grimace. "I have no idea where she's going. Do you?"

"No," he responds, like it's not a serious question. Because it can't be. If he can't remember it, then it didn't happen. He doesn't love Kaylie; he never humiliated himself to propose to her. He's an Olympic champions, and Kaylie is just... Kaylie.

Kaylie is Kaylie...

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Austin repeats, impatiently.

Why can't he shake it off? He's not really married to her. He's eighteen years old, and just found out that she's not as spoiled as he assumed. But that doesn't mean he loves her. Even if he feels it right now, burning through his veins like some sort of poisonous drug... he's feeling what he felt then, when he was at the podium, listening to the national anthem, eyes and smile settled firmly on the group of female gymnasts waiting for the men's ceremony to end so theirs could begin. What if he just... would she say...

"They had an accident and forgot the last four years of their lives. I was telling her what happened in those years, but then she freaked out when I told her about her parents' divorce, and ran out when I told her about her pregnancy."

Wait.

Just... wait.

What?


	9. The series is rated Mature

CHAPTER 9: THE SERIES IS RATED "MATURE"

As it turns out, running from paparazzi is hard. They're seriously a plague. Kaylie had to drop into an early Halloween sale—thank God it's already the beginning of October—in a store by the airport in order to buy a wig or she would have never made it into the plane heading for Denver without giving America a photographic heads-up of where she was going. Well, she would have let them take as many pictures as they wanted as long as Nicky didn't see them.

Yes. That was the purpose of storming out of the restaurant, hailing a cab, and buying a ticket to Denver (with the intention of fetching another taxi and going to Boulder): so she wouldn't have to face Nicky.

During her flight she remembered what happened after that flashback she had involving Kelly in the restroom; she'd hurried out into the cafeteria to see Nicky, and he'd grinned like he was about to run over to her, until a clueless Austin had brought over a cup of orange juice to her and kissed her cheek like the boyfriend he was (and that was after Nationals in 2010, she guessed). That was as far as the flashback went, but it was long enough for her to assume that she and Nicky had definitely not started to date that early.

There were many, many thoughts pulsing at the corners, threatening to spill inside her brain and force her to acknowledge the mess she's in and how she's worsening it, but she keeps them at bay. All she thinks about is how good it'll feel to be back in Boulder; to smell its unique mountainous air, and allow her feet to sink into its soft, inviting earth. The sun's rays have just begun to peek on the horizon when the cab drops her off in front of the Rock and she stops at the parking lot, in front of the large tree everyone wanted to park under for its generous shade. She stands absolutely still, soaking in the warmth of dawn, closing her eyes slowly...

_She leans against the tree and sighs. This wasn't how he was supposed to see her. After all these years of thinking 'it's gone. He's gone. I don't feel anything,' he's back. She's trying to coax her body and heart to cooperate and allow her to get through the day's practice without betraying how conflicted she is. She just broke up with Austin days ago. Isn't she supposed to be in mourning, or something? Why can't she stop staring at him?_

"_Hey."_

_Instantly, her ears perk but she forces herself not to look at him. "Hey."_

"_I know my supreme skills are intimidating, but that's no reason for you to leave the gym when I come in."_

_Smiling is so easy..."I'm glad you can completely misinterpret my actions to get a nice ego boost." _

_He laughs. And her chest hurts._

"_It's been a while, huh?" he asks softly, sliding down to sit beside her. Finally, she turns to him, controlling her breathing._

"_Yeah. Two years."_

"_I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you during Nationals last year, I should have talked to you in the restaurant but... God, 2010 was a mess."_

"_You're telling me..." she murmurs, because her parents' divorce was finalized last week, and every week she still has to attend counseling for the anorexia incident._

"_I'm sorry about Kelly hiding your keys last year, too." At this, they trade smiles, although something in Kaylie tells her to look away quick, or she might not be able to contain the bubbling, nervous happiness telling her to get closer to him. "And..." Nicky clears his throat uneasily, smile fading. "And I'm sorry I wasn't the one that caught you last year when you fell off the beam."_

_His words, his tone, his heart-clenching sincerity; they make her feel light-headed. "I... it's... it's over."_

"_I know. I'm glad. I would have... if I'd been here..." He's staring at some far away place now, probably the mountain surrounding their city. Her city—he moved. "I tried to call you, but it was like my fingers didn't work when I was dialing your number. And I have, like, five letters and emails I wrote, and didn't send any of them because I knew you were dealing with a lot and I thought I was going to add to it, you know?" His voice sounds strangled, or mumbled, or muffled, like he's having a hard time breathing, or maybe it's just her ears._

_Though he can't look at her, she maintains her gaze steadily on him, while some small part of her wonders why he's apologizing, why he's trying to explain things. At the same time, another part of her appreciates this; that he thought of her, and she wasn't alone when she was missing him._

"_You know, you being here makes things a lot better." She can't really believe she just said that, but these are the only feelings in her right now—relief. Because he's here, and it seems like at least this time, he's not going anywhere. She's not with Austin, he's not with Kelly, and it just isn't 2010 anymore. _

"_Yeah? So you're not going to throw your food out anymore?" Nicky inquires with a strained smile, sounding like he's teasing in some superficial level, and anxiously expressing his fears in another. She shakes her head with a small, downcast gesture... she hasn't done that in a couple of months, and hopes she won't, ever again. "I know you tried to lose weight to look somewhat prettier, but let me tell you that you're wasting your time. You can't look any more..." He begins to laugh, probably because she can feel a blush coming in to grace her cheeks. "Any more beautiful."_

_God. Her heart is melting. "I knew you were a corny flirt."_

"_And if you lose any more weight, you'll be reduced to a voice, and your voice is kind of annoying without your hot body and face to balance it out." She allows herself to openly laugh with him this time, shoulders shaking and entire body buzzing with excitement._

_Without really thinking about it, or giving him a heads-up, or anything, she leans towards him and presses a soft, brief kiss on his lips. She doesn't give time for her brain to catch up to her body, or for him to react, before she retreats and watches him nervously. _

"_What was that for?" Is the fact that he's whispering a good sign or bad?_

"_Well, you said my voice was annoying so I had to find a nonverbal way to say thank you for being here." Okay... that was a brain fart. But was it? Because he's smiling again, wider than before, and he's inching closer to her, and..._

_And he kissed her. "That was my nonverbal 'you're welcome.'"_

Kaylie opens her eyes. The memories have been coming back more frequently lately, and they're longer flashbacks than in the beginning. Entire "scenes" play out in her brain now, instead of little snippets. That's good, right? Does that mean she'll be recovering her memories soon? Does that mean she'll feel like herself again? Does that mean her life will begin to make sense? Her parents, her pregnancy, Nicky? Does that mean...

A single tear manages to leap from her eye, and she's quick to wipe it before it stains her cheek and leaves evidence that things are spiraling out of control, but then another tear slips out, and another, and before she's conscious of what she's doing, Kaylie is already sitting by the famed tree, knees covering her face as she cries—really cries, like she's been preventing herself from doing for so long.

* * *

He knew where she was going to be. Austin and Kaylie also guessed she'd be in Boulder, but Nicky sent them to look for her at her home back in 2010, while he went to the Rock, which should still be under renovations. By the time they searched her house and figured out that she wasn't there, he would have had a few minutes alone with Kaylie and would be able to maybe figure out how to adjust to their newly discovered reality.

But as he asks the cab driver to drop him off a few yards from the gym, so she won't see him, and reluctantly feels the car speed away, he finds it difficult to approach the structure, approach her. He caught a glimpse of her by the large tree in front of the parking lot as they drove by, and now he stares at her distant figure, wondering what he'll say when they're finally face to face.

It hasn't sunk in yet that she's pregnant; that he'll be a father, and that this is for real—even if they get their memories back, this isn't something that will go away, unlike all of the other problems they've had.

He's going to be a father. In a few months, there will be someone small and fragile that will depend on his care and his time won't belong solely to himself anymore, for the rest of his life. The weight of this is staggering. What the hell is he going to do?

Well, it's worse for Kaylie, though, isn't it? The thing—child—is actually inside her, growing. And her parents got divorced, and she's not a gymnast anymore...

On the way here, his father called him from some European city (Geneva? Stockholm?) where he's attending a conference, and that reminded Nicky that yeah, his dad is still the same-largely absent due to medical summits, still occupying his time with anything that will make him forget his wife's death six years (well, now 10 years) ago. It gives him a small measure of comfort that nothing's changed, but then again—_nothing's changed_.

Nicky releases an involuntary sigh, heavy-hearted and sad. How long can he postpone this? How long has she been sitting there, head lowered onto her knees while the autumn sun gently embraces her?

Step by step, he makes his way to her and in only a few minutes, he's already a few feet from her, although she hasn't noticed yet. He opens his mouth to call her attention and not startle her, but his eyes settle on the tree against which she's leaning and he frowns, because something happened here. Something important. His brain is nudging him impatiently, and the memory is just right there, just an inch beyond his reach...

"_You being here makes things a lot better." He wants to kiss her... can he kiss her? She's so beautiful... but she's so damaged now... he wants—no, needs to fix her._

"_Yeah? So you're not going to throw your food out anymore?" Suddenly, she looks sadder than he's ever seen her. He wants her smiling again. "I know you tried to lose weight to look somewhat prettier, but let me tell you that you're wasting your time. You can't look any more..." He's actually going to say it. But she's blushing and has a sheepish grin, like she's remembering that yeah, she is cute, isn't she? and it fuels him on. "Any more beautiful."_

_By now she's laughing, which makes the bottom of his stomach drop pleasantly. "I knew you were a corny flirt," she accuses him, nudging his arm, maybe unconsciously?_

"_And if you lose any more weight," he continues, deciding that teasing is always going to be where they feel closer, "you'll be reduced to a voice, and your voice is kind of annoying without your hot body and face to balance it out." She's so beautiful. What's it gonna take for her to be his? Just his? Not Tucker's, or Anderson's or any other guy's—just his? He feels like he's been waiting forever, and he..._

_He's stunned. It was swift, and it caught him completely off-guard, and maybe he imagined the whole thing, but... she kissed him. What did he do? Why didn't she give him a chance to kiss her back?"What was that for?" is the only question, out of a hundred, that he manages to voice._

_Kaylie gives him a heartbreaking smile, all blush and embarrassment. "Well," she begins to explain, "you said my voice was annoying so I had to find a nonverbal way to say thank you for being here." _

_Her eyes, brilliant with happiness and mischief, dare him to do something about what she's just said. At the same time, he can still see that disarming awkwardness in her expression, like every move she performs around him is unrehearsed. And now he can understand why she kissed him—it's hard to find the words to say everything that needs to be said. _

_So he kisses her, too. "That was my nonverbal 'you're welcome.'"_

"Hey. What are you doing here?" He shakes his head vigorously for a second, then looks at the source of the question. Kaylie is watching him carefully, and he can tell by her soft, weary voice and flushed cheeks that she's been crying.

"Kaylie," he begins, slightly stunned that she's talking to him at all. For some reason he thought she'd be mad. "Hey. It wasn't hard to find you..." he trails off when she lays her head back onto her knees, concealing her face again. Gingerly, he sits beside her, feeling the rough bark dig uncomfortably into his back. "Do you want to go back to LA?"

"Not as of right now, no," she replies, muffled. "You can go back without me."

He almost laughs. Almost. "No... no, I actually can't..."

"Did Parker tell you?" Her voice is even smaller now; so soft he wonders whether she meant for him to hear it.

"About you being..." Why can't he just say the word? It'd show that he's okay with this, right? It would show confidence, like he will support her through this. But he can't say it, can't think about it, can't process it. Not yet. "Yeah. She did."

He hears her sigh, like she's holding back a sob. But then, a second or two later, her voice is normal again. "Sorry about that."

"It's not... it was the old us." Like that makes it better... like it'll make things go back to normal. Although, what would normal be? 2010?

"I had shooting today... did I lose my job?" she asks quietly, as he frowns and admits he has to admire how consistently dedicated she is to her career—be it in gymnastics, or this acting thing. As he's opening his mouth to reply, she raises her head and he's rendered immobile by the sight of her face; caramel skin, large, bright eyes, soft features. He should have gotten used to her looks already, but they still stun him and it's a nuisance in times like these.

"Kelly called the studio and asked to postpone today's filming for tomorrow." He clears his throat to add the part that makes him uneasy, "and I'm supposed to go shoot some scenes with you too, I guess?"

"Oh. Yeah," she chuckles bitterly, and the sound is there, but her eyes are still darkened by gloom. She looks up to meet his gaze and he can almost see the little storm ravaging inside her mind. "I heard about that." Quietly, she stands up, slapping her pants free of grass of dirt, and he follows suit. "I'm just going to show up today. It's my job. And it's 2014; I'm not sixteen anymore."

He nods, unsure of what he's agreeing to, but dials Kelly's number nonetheless, and asks her to pick them up at the Rock so they can go back to LA.

They wait in the parking lot, a sort of comfortable yet pained silence swirling around them and pushing them farther away from each other than normal. She's leaning against the tree and he's struggling to stand next to her instead of running away. There's a feeling he can't pin down, telling him to either hug her and promise her things will be all right, or to reveal to her that he just can't handle being married to her and having a kid. Instead of choosing a path, he just stands there, and they both stare at the mountains and the clouds choking its peak.

They go directly to the studio, where Kelly uses her writer/producer status to apologize for Kaylie and Austin's tardiness without any major repercussions. Nicky and Kaylie ride numbly in the back of one of the golf carts, staring wordlessly ahead while Austin's futile attempts to joke and lighten the atmosphere become weaker and weaker.

Finally, Kelly and Austin drop them off in front of Kaylie's trailer and drive off, leaving the two eyeing it wearily. Nicky can't believe that only a few hours ago, he and Kaylie were on the verge of having sex again, while he almost believed that their marriage could be real; that maybe, even with the memory loss, he still would have chosen this life. Now, the gentle fall breeze toys with loose strands of her hair, and he watches her from the corner of his eye, anxious to know whether she's replaying things inside her mind like he is.

"The script should already be inside," she tells him softly, turning to him and meeting his gaze tiredly. "By what Kelly told us on the way, today is just a reading. We're going to start filming the final five episodes of the season tomorrow. "

"Already the end of the season?" Didn't they just have the season premiere party?

"Yeah, we film episodes weeks before they air. It takes a long time to edit all the footage and format it into an episode," she explains, sounding more and more mechanical and unemotional with each word, like she's reciting something someone told her. "And besides, our show is on cable; our seasons are only eighteen episodes, not twenty-something like others."

Nicky licks his lips nervously. It's good to hear her talking when she's been silent for the last couple of hours, but he wonders whether she'd be willing to talk about something else. Maybe... how she's feeling? Whether she wants him to call her mother or father?

Kaylie steps inside the trailer and a second later re-emerges with some papers that she distributes among them. "Here. This is your copy." Then, she begins to walk towards a large warehouse nearby and Nicky, at loss for words, sighs and follows her.

Hours later, they're done with the reading and Nicky is exhausted. He's apparently looked at this script before, because some of his lines sound really, really familiar, and some he even remembers. But the effort of committing his few lines to memory, saying them as he's supposed to, and interacting as a character with Kaylie's character, is straining and he feels a headache coming on fairly early into the reading. At least he made it out alive, he thinks later as a helicopter is taking them home.

He ventures a look to the side, to where Kaylie is sitting, clasping her hands on her lap in front of her and staring out her window to the Los Angeles sunset. He wants to hold her hand, or hug her, or do something—anything—to make this painful distance go away, but what can he do? Maybe giving her space is the best solution; maybe she just needs time to process everything. With this theory in mind, he settles back into his seat and lets his mind drift to 2010. It was only four days ago, but it seems like such a long time since they woke up in 2014. It feels like a lifetime, or like it really has been four years, and he thinks about that, trying to remember all the times he looked at Kaylie Cruz when they were growing up, and didn't even think about the possibility that they would get married in the future. It makes him smile, and involuntarily glance at the girl beside him. He wishes she would smile, too. He wishes she would look at him, at least, give him some sort of response. But what is he really asking for? Her attention? Her love?

Once they are home, it becomes apparent that no words are necessary; he heads to that guest room he slept in on their first night here, while she makes her way to their room. It doesn't take him long to sleep, but when he does, he's still thinking about her.

* * *

They're filming a sex scene. Nicky can't believe his eyes when he reads the script for the second episode of the 5-episode arc; he performs a shaky, violent double-take and almost chokes on air. It's been two days since they came back from her escapade to Boulder, and not much between he and Kaylie has changed. Kaylie is still withdrawn and reluctant to speak anything at all, to anyone. Kelly told him that she reacted the exact same way for about a week after her parents filed for divorce, so he guesses this is her method of dealing with things.

But still—they're filming a sex scene. He isn't sure how they'll be able to do that since, as far as he's discovered, the series is rated "mature" and the scene will probably be sort of... explicit... or kind of hinting at that. For the last three days they have barely looked at each other, haven't talked and much less touched, so...

Sighing with frustration, Nicky runs a hand through his hair, clutching the damned script with the other.

Shit. What the hell is he going to do? Sure, Kaylie is an actual actress and will be able to convincingly portray whatever she's supposed to, but how is he going to bare his clothes, see her half naked, and... what is that on line 15? KISS.

He's going to kiss her. He's not that good of an actor, and he can't imagine not being affected by it. He's sure he'll fall apart, and the mere thought of having her that close undoes his composure and he unsettles his heartbeats. And it's not just because he's had sex with her and for some reason, at random times in the day, wants her again. It's because she's been avoiding all contact with him and gradually sort of crushing his heart in the process.

This is the part of this whole thing that he hates thinking about. It's easy to ponder on how awful it is that he's still attracted to her, that he can still remember how his entire body throbbed afterwards in that morning in the hotel. It is immensely difficult, however, to admit what he had begun to realize that morning. The reason why it wasn't hard to imagine that he'd chosen this life, and the reason why his body and his heart both had accepted Kaylie as his wife—even as his mind fought it—was because he loved her. And that fact scares the shit out of him. He went to sleep one day with a crush, and woke up the next day _in love_ with Kaylie Cruz. Just like that. Just like that, she's... so much to him that he can't even...

"Hey," Kaylie greets him in that same soft, sad tone she's been speaking in ever since they came back, and he whips around to face her, surprised by her presence in the set. Then he feels stupid for being surprised, because she works here. He's the visitor; he's the one who should be surprising people with his presence. "We're going to start make-up and wardrobe in ten, and shooting in about thirty."

"The sex scene?" he can't help asking in a small voice.

Kaylie doesn't react to his intimidated body language, or the fact that his voice is high-pitched like he's going through puberty again. "Yes. That one and the one with the competition."

His character, Adam, appeared in the first season as one of Josie's one-night-stands while she was competing at Worlds, because fans had sent petitions to see America's favorite married gymnasts act together. Then, due to popular demand, he'd been invited to have his own story arc with Josie this season, in which they are in the Olympics and she's just broken up with Austin's character, John. He wants to ask her more about how they're going to go about the sex scene, but then he frowns when he thinks about what she's just said.

"The competition? You mean you're going to do your stunts?" He straightens and faces her less timidly, more curious. "Isn't the actual competition in the season finale?"

"Yes, they want me to do the stunts now before I start to show." Show what? he almost asks, before he clamps his mouth shut and realizes this is the first reference she's made to the pregnancy since they were in Boulder. Kaylie, too, breaks her detached poise and widens her eyes, just a bit. "Anyway, we need to go to make-up and wardrobe," she repeats, instantly slipping back into the emotionless expression she's perfected over the last days.

Nicky clears his throat and shrugs, feigning indifference when just looking at her like this makes his entire chest hurt like a hammer is crushing his heart. "Okay. No problem. See you there."

* * *

Oh my God. Kaylie is...

So close to him. "I thought we'd never see each other again," Kaylie is murmuring with a sultry, playful smile. She touches his shoulder, sending electric waves all through his body, and that's his cue to speak his line.

Come on, Nicky. Forget the cameras. Forget the lights, the microphones, the uncomfortable heat, the two dozen people surrounding you. Remember your line.

"I knew I'd see you soon. Gymnastics is a small world, Josie." The director told him that Adam is always confident, always in control. Adam is supposed to bring out the worst in Josie, the part of her that is indulgent, irresponsible, lustful and careless. So he concentrates on projecting that cockiness he doesn't have, like Kaylie is his, even if she isn't and doesn't want to be.

Kaylie is a great, great actress. He's having to put enormous effort into keeping his hands from shaking when he reaches for her waist and easily pulls her closer to him, trying to smile like touching her isn't making him melt, but she moves and speaks with incredible ease.

"You have your own gravity," she whispers, and he almost stops right there, because it sounds like she means it. Even more than usual. "And I can't avoid it."

He takes a longer pause than they rehearsed, looking into her caramel eyes and forgetting to breathe. She has the most perfect face he's ever seen.

He can barely remember where he is, who's around him. What is he supposed to be doing again? He's supposed to say something. "Then don't."

Her lips brush his softly, tenderly, and the familiar, intoxicating taste transports him back to that morning. All he wants is to go back. Or go forward, past this pained phase of disbelief, of fighting against everything, to a place where they can settle into their past selves, the ones that wanted this life.

He suppresses a groan in his throat when she presses closes to him, hypersensitive to her every touch and breath. It's a testament to his self-restraint when he's able to break the kiss when the director yells out "cut!" and everything fades back into the set. In an instant he's surrounded by make-up and wardrobe crews, stripping him off his clothing, rubbing oils and powders over his face and body.

He knows the next part of the scene. The bed is already being slid into the set, and Nicky begins to hyperventilate. Almost sick with uneasiness, he glances at Kaylie, seeking some sort of support or reassurance, but receives the exact opposite when he watches her slowly lay on the bed, covering her chest with her arm while the film crew usher him over and rearrange the sheets. His brain has stopped functioning, and all he can do is numbly, unthinkingly follow their instructions. Had he been in a more lucid state of mind, he'd probably have been able to pay attention to his surroundings, and what the dozens of people around him were saying, as well as the director's instructions on the scene's tone. But he's barely conscious then, and before he can really process things, he's laying on top of her, in his underwear, while his chest presses down on her naked breasts. Her face is right there, slightly worried and just an inch away from his, and the scent she's diffusing, the heat she's radiating—everything is heady and just too much.

It's too much.

"Kaylie," he breaths out, unable to hear the director's last instructions; unable to remember what he's supposed to do and say.

Kaylie's expression becomes even more worried, although when he shifts his weight on top of her to create some comfort, her breathing hitches for a moment. Then, instantly, she is back to unemotional. "Nicky, all you do is kiss me. I'll do the rest."

Okay. Just breathe. Relax. The crew is settling into their places, the camera is floating towards them, and he closes his eyes and breathes deeply. When he opens them, they lock with Kaylie's, and a small tremor runs from his heart to the length of his body.

He can do this. He can get through this.

* * *

His body feels too familiar. The way they fit together unsettles her deeply, because the sensations his touches cause in her are becoming too intense to harness.

Kaylie wants to look away, or halt shooting so she can run away again, because Nicky is some sort of drug her body is hooked on: the effects are all there, like the pleasurable calm that takes over and entices her to try just a little bit more. When she kissed him for the scene before, everything in her vision became blurry, except him. It hit her like a freight train, just how much she missed him. It's only been three days since they had any physical contact, and four days since they had sex, but it feels like her body has been counting the seconds until it could have him close again. He really is an addiction, and she's afraid she's tempting herself too much.

She can't be with him. At least, not right now. She shattered into a hundred pieces when Kelly told her about that side of her new life that she hadn't known about when she began to try to be the Kaylie from 2014. Had she known everything was so complicated, she would have maintained some boundaries between her and Nicky. He can't possibly be okay with the prospect of having a child with a girl he barely knows, so she wants to keep her distance until she can figure out what the hell she's supposed to do.

The problem is, of course, how hard it is to keep that distance. Especially now, that he's breathtakingly close, and she can feel his taut, solid muscles press against her smaller frame. He's an incredibly attractive guy—always has been—but today, he's... it's just... almost too much for her to bear. And the more she tries to tell herself to settle down and concentrate on the scene, and push aside those memories of that morning in the hotel, the more her body resists, and insists on reacting much too strongly to his proximity.

Vaguely, she registers that the cameras are now rolling, and he's slowly, carefully lowering his lips onto hers. A brief thought flashes though her mind; this is Nicky, not Adam. But then it evaporates completely as soon as she feels his kiss and her heart stops. This... _this_... is what it felt like.

The next step is hers, and although she knows real kisses have no place in the stage, she deepens the kiss almost too eagerly, pulling him down, or pushing herself up; she has no idea. She just wants more. He starts to sink into her while she drowns in his lips, their sheets and mattress. This kiss is wetter, deeper, and rougher than any they've ever shared. And she still wants more.

"Cut!" she hears, and it's like a gunshot ringing in her brain, snapping her out of her reverie and back into the set. This was a job. This was not real. She looks away from a stunned Nicky to watch the director instead. "Very, very good!" The director is so enthusiastic, Kaylie almost feels guilty. It was so effortless; she doesn't deserve this much praise. "I told you to embody Josie and Adam's carnality and lust, and you were excellent! Very good job!" Carefully, Kaylie slides out of the bed from under Nicky, and is immediately wrapped in a robe by the wardrobe crew. "All right, we resume shooting tomorrow. Get some rest, everyone!"

Kaylie trods to the make-up stands, desperate for some air, some relief from the heavy atmosphere. She can smell Nicky on her skin and it's chipping at her sanity with frustrating effectiveness. A wave of gratefulness washes over her when she sees how quickly the make-up team is removing the creams and powders they took so long to slather onto her face. This means she'll be able to go home quickly, and she really just wants to leave. While a young woman removes some clips from her hair, Kaylie glances at her arms and legs, the visible parts of her body that were in contact with Nicky's a few minutes ago, and finds it impossible not to savor the lingering sensations. It's almost like he burned her, and every member is still pulsating with a pleasant ache.

Her attention is snatched away when Nicky sits down heavily a few chairs away from her, either refusing to look at her, or too consumed in his own thoughts to even notice she's there. His hair is in its usual disarray, and his mouth is forming an annoyed pout that reminds her of their kiss. Their kisses. All of them.

Kaylie focuses on her reflection in the mirror in front of her and tries to command her heart to slow down. Its ferocious beating isn't doing any favors to her composure. The ride home feels only a few seconds long; in a blink they are already making their way to their respective rooms.

She feels weak. She is weak. Because she sort of knows what's going to happen now, and there's nothing she can attempt to do to stop herself.

Kaylie gently touches his wrist as he's entering the guest room he's been sleeping in. He turns, eyebrows furrowed in open puzzlement, and they furrow even deeper when her eyes rake the masculine angles of his face and the rounded corners of his muscles. It's there—that same pained want she saw in him when he was paralyzed on top of her in that bed. She removes his shirt easily, as he's helping her, still stunned, still questioning, but overcome by the same need.

Maybe this is a bad idea. She can't imagine what they'll do after this is over and they find that their emotional distance can't be as easily bridged as their physical one. But for now, all she can think about is how easy everything would be if their issues weren't issues, and they could just be Kaylie and Nicky. If he loved her despite the fact that she's so damaged and ruined by bad experiences. But sex can cloud every thought, even the most unpleasant and heartbreaking ones, so she lets him kiss her neck slowly, and she allows her hands to roam the expanse of his back while he kicks the door closed and carries her back to that morning.

* * *

**A/N:** I made this extra long because of the delay in updating. Some virus murdered my computer, and once it was rebooted and reformatted, I found out that I had lost most of my files, including the three future chapters of this fic I had already completed. I almost cried. Seriously. And then I forced myself to think of world hunger and child poverty, until the mere thought of crying over a computer became something to be laughed at. So now I'm trying to write everything over again and it feels like the chapters are suckier this time around, but bear with me. :) Also, happy new year!


	10. Sex isn't personal

CHAPTER 10: SEX ISN'T PERSONAL

Without any words, Kaylie conceived and established the rules that delineated their relationship. Over the course of the next two days, Nicky understands them and doesn't protest. It's just sex. Nothing else. He doesn't kiss her, or touch her, or say anything. It's just sex, he repeats over and over in his head whenever he begins to question the "why" of this situation.

The way Kaylie goes about it, she makes it satisfying, painless, and mostly quick—like they're efficient machines. He never asks her for more than she's willing to give. He never even tries to break her rules; the few times they kissed, she initiated it, and it seemed she did it only by accident or to muffle their sounds. He touches her only where it's necessary; to hold her still, or balance himself. And after they are done she leaves, like she did that first night they had come back from filming their sex scene. She caressed his cheek in the slightest of touches, then retreated to her room while his throbbing body recovered from what they'd just done, and his mind reeled over how things were going to turn out after this.

Their arrangement is odd; never in a million years he would have expected to be having "casual" sex with his wife. But given their circumstances, stranger things were possible. He wished Kaylie would actually, you know, talk to him. But as it is, she is wholly immersed in her show's shootings and he only sees her when he's scheduled for filming, or when she wants to spend the night with him, and even then, she takes off immediately afterward.

He wants her to stay. So he can ask how her day went, how her parents are, if she can feel the baby growing. He wants her to smile, or laugh—anything would be great—but she never does. She's just fulfilling a need and he knows he should be thankful that he can do that for her, at least; he can be of use for a half hour, or fifteen minutes, or however long she makes it take. That, in a way, answers his questions. If she's quick and determined, then her day was rough and long. When she's gentler and more patient, then her mind isn't as clouded or worried. When she lets him touch her, and look into her eyes, he knows she's remembering that morning, wishing things were still like that, and not fucked up and horrible like they are now. He knows she feels stuck, like none of this was her choice, like she could deal with the marriage and the new career because those things required some adjusting but it could be done. But the divorce shook her and the pregnancy broke her, and he feels helpless that he can't fix her, can't patch her up and restore her to that confident carelessness she had when she smiled at the world like she knew she would be smiled back at.

He's just there to fulfill a need, that's all. He takes her cues, the ragged, uneven breathing, the involuntary shivers and muffled moans, and knows what to do—he's just there to fulfill a need.

What would have happened if they'd never gone on that dinner date with Austin and Kelly? If they had stayed in her trailer instead? He probably would have told her the things that had been in his mind since that morning in the hotel—that it wasn't exactly something he was completely comfortable with, yet, but he really believed he loved her. Then maybe discovering about the pregnancy and the divorce—which she would have, eventually—wouldn't have been as affecting. He thinks about the restaurant; about frowning at Austin's laid-back, smirking personality, and then worrying himself sick over something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He proposed to Kaylie in the middle of a medals ceremony in the Olympics. Did that matter?

* * *

Kaylie wakes, and the nausea reminds her that it's been a week since her last injection of whatever cocktail she's been taking to keep the morning sickness and mood swings at bay, and it'll be given to her again today.

No, Kaylie. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT.

But it's useless. She sits up, hand resting on her stomach, and thinks about it. She's pregnant. The word used to inspire nothing in her, it had no connotation at all, positive or negative. Now it symbolizes all the reasons she wants to be someone else, in a different time.

That's usually her first thought every morning, but at least today, because of the annoying nagging her stomach is making, the pregnancy was her second thought.

And now it's time for the third miserable thought of the day: she slept with Nicky again last night. Not that she even tries to fight it. And not that the sex is miserable. No, the sex is actually... it's great... it's so...

Ugh. A different kind of nausea overcomes her; the kind that follows every thought or memory she has about Nicky, and his lips, his eyes, his hair, his body, his arms... it's a tingling sensation, pleasantly traveling through her body, leaving a trail of shivers, making her forget to breathe. Until she shuts that down. Because that's not what she's supposed to feel with Nicky.

She doesn't know how sex went from an affirmation of emotional attachment to a mechanically-performed need, but it did, and it seems like it's the only thing keeping her intact nowadays. She goes through the motions like she's supposed to, but acting all the time; acting in accordance to the script when on set, and like she's okay and in control everywhere else. Sometimes she convinces Austin and Kelly. Sometimes she convinces herself, even. But she never convinces Nicky, and it unsettles her that there's a person in the world that seems to know her better than she knows herself, even when she barely talks to him, even when she uses sex to hide.

Yes, she's hiding from him. Their trysts may be a monetarily pleasurable, but there's a weighty emptiness afterwards that would have convinced her to stop them if they didn't reassure Nicky that she was still alive and well. That's what she means by hiding—sex is how she distracts him from worrying too much about her, because she sees his relief when he gets to interact with her in however small a way.

She knows how he feels about all this. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him fighting the urge to reach his hand out and touch her, and when she feels his breath hot against her throat and jaw, she knows he want to raise his mouth just a bit and kiss her. When she's sliding off his bed to leave, sometimes she catches glimpses of his eyes, always pained, like she's killing him. If she ever gave him an opportunity to speak, he'd probably ask her to stay, but she's made the rules clear: they don't talk.

For some reason, when it sunk in that she was going to be a mother, and her life was irreversibly different, she couldn't pretend anymore that it was okay being in 2014 and remembering almost nothing of how she got there. When she had begun to accept Nicky as her spouse, and could see why she had chosen to marry him, it had seemed easy to go with the current and not fight her feelings for him. She had wanted things to work out, had wanted to settle into this new life and carry on until the memories came back entirely. But then everything changed and she _has_ to fight it now. She doesn't know why, exactly, but her mind and body are fighting against this and she refuses to accept that these changes must also be adapted to. Even if maybe it would make things easier. Even if she can't recognize herself in the mirror anymore, she's fighting herself so much.

So she follows the fear telling her to run away from Nicky because their problem is much too enormous to be tackled, but also follows her body, which tells her to be with him through the only way that is bearable and won't involve any feelings—sex.

Her stomach performs another lurch, and she breathes deeply and slowly, knowing there's nothing in her to throw up. Nervously, she glances at the clock. Damn. It's still seven. She has a whole hour to kill before she has to leave to the studio. What can she do in an hour? Explore her closet? It's gigantic, and she's been too intimidated to take a long, examining look around. Maybe she should read the last script, and make sure she knows all her lines. Even if she's sure she does.

A sudden thought occurs to her. If Nicky were here, she would feel much better. Even at her worst, the mere sight of him alleviates most of her anguish and pains. But it highlights other pains, like the ones caused by the fact that she has feelings for him that he doesn't reciprocate, and the pregnancy just made sure of that. What would it be like, for a guy, to have a child with someone you kind of like, but not really?

Food. She needs to eat something. If, then, she throws up before she has to a chance to get her shot, at least something will come out besides stomach acid. God. Six more months of this...

* * *

Her heartbeats have never been this shallow and quick, even when she performed long, arduous routines. And the fact that she hasn't let out any loud moans or suspicious noises is a testament to her self-restraint. Nicky, too, seems to be on the verge of groaning very loudly every time she shifts her positioning or speed.

Faintly, she hears the low hum typically emitted by the golf carts everyone uses to get around the lot, just outside her trailer. In the back of her mind, she's thinking that this is a bad sign, because if people are driving by this area of the studio, then it's nearing the time to start shooting. And yes, her actual reporting time isn't in a while, but the way things are going, she's going to have a harder and harder time keeping things quiet in the trailer, and traffic outside of it is increasing. But all this doesn't stop her smile of satisfaction when he can't help a small groan-he thinks she's teasing, but in reality, she's just pacing things a bit. For a second, she thinks about how hot it is in the trailer, but then her eyes wander to his arms and chest, glistening with a thin layer of perspiration, and her train of thought is pleasantly derailed.

Nicky is always impatient, and a lot more reluctant to give up control than she ever thought, so it's not surprising to her when he flips them over and she finds herself quickly underneath him. And that's when her first moan slips out; because now that he's the one controlling the pace, things catch her off-guard, and he knows her body so well, and... oh God... this isn't going to take long. This is really, really, not going to...

* * *

"_That's my way of asking you to watch it with me."_

"_Oh was that it? I'm sorry; I guess you were too subtle."_

"_Or, you wanted to see me beg." _

"_I was up for a little coaxing." _

"Morning, Nick." Kelly's voice snaps him out of his distant thought, as he remembered better times with Kaylie. He's been sitting at a small table just outside Kaylie's trailer for... twenty, thirty minutes, probably, initially just staring at nowhere in particular, thinking about his lines for today, Kaylie, the plotlines, Kaylie, his food, Kaylie... she owns him. She owns every thought. She owns his whole body.

"Hey," he greets back, forcing some semblance of emotion into his voice. He motions to the chair on the opposite side of the wooden table and she sits down, smiling and examining him with curiosity.

"There are going to be life forms growing on your sandwich if you don't eat it soon," she quips with an easy chuckle, crossing her arms and leaning back. Nicky offers her a small, amused smile, and takes an obliging bite from said sandwich. "So how have you been?"

"Good." He doesn't mean to sound so curt. But there's nothing to say here, really.

"Yeah? You and Kaylie have been sort of weird..." Kelly comments idly, lifting her hands to inspect her nails. "Ever since you came back from Boulder." Yeah, of course. What was she expecting? he wants to retort, but she adds, "and then after that sex scene, you guys seem to be having a bit of a... an unusual chemistry."

Yeah, the director commented that their scenes seem to be a lot steamier than the were last season, but thankfully he concluded that their marriage is a great addition to their acting capabilities. Little does he know, that they kiss hard on set, enough to bruise, and never kiss at all outside of it. But now that Kelly is bringing this up, is the casual sex thing noticeable? What exactly does Kelly know? Has Kaylie been talking to her? "I don't know what you mean."

Kelly sighs, watching him and tilting her head with a smirk. "You barely speak to each other but yesterday I swear there were like, three minutes in which everyone walking by your trailer could hear you two."

"Kelly—"

She cuts him off unceremoniously. "I understand. I do. You guys don't know how to move past the pregnancy thing, and Kaylie is upset over that and the divorce. And you're going to be a father and you don't even remember _dating_ Kaylie. But the sex is good, so you keep on doing it, right?"

The way she systematically managed to cram their larger problems into a nutshell is striking, and Nicky is impressed. But... God. This is going to be a pain to put into words. "Yeah, we're... sleeping together... but it's not really... anything personal." He notices that he raised his voice at the end, and it came out like a question even though it's a statement. A jumbled mess of a statement, but still.

"How is sex between you two not personal?"

Good question.

"She doesn't want it to be personal, so it isn't."

Her eyebrows, which had shot up her forehead when he began to explain things, finally settle down, but Kelly is clearly dissatisfied. Like his replies aren't really answering her questions, and he can't help thinking that he made a mistake mentioning this at all. But he needed someone to talk to about this and Austin, KAYLIE'S EX-BOYFRIEND, wasn't an option. "You know what, Nicky?" she says resolutely, nodding quickly, "we can talk about sex. Freely. Because when we were younger we did a whole lot of it," at this, he winces involuntarily, "and we have no wish to do it ever again." He's still watching her with a light grimace, because, somehow, memories of his sex life with Kelly are profoundly unpleasant. Maybe because she was always bossing him around and insulting him. "Therefore, let's be open about it now. What, exactly, are you and Kaylie doing in the bedroom?"

Instantly, he cringes. What the... how is he supposed to answer that? "We sleep together. That's it. No, actually, we don't sleep together. We have sex and then she leaves. But that's it."

"Interesting. Do you ever kiss?"

"Not outside the set."

"How often do you guys do it?" Nicky has to admit—this question and answer format makes things a lot easier. In any other manner, he'd probably not have been able to string two words together out of embarrassment.

"Probably... once or twice a day."

"Is it good?"

"Uh... yes. Really good." This is so embarrassing. So, so, painfully—

"But you don't snuggle, or talk about feelings afterward."

"No. She's not..." He sighs, eyes darting around him, some small part of him expecting Kaylie to be right around the corner, listening to this. "She doesn't like me, Kelly. There aren't any feelings to talk about. It's really just sex for her."

"And it's not just sex for you?"

However reluctant he was to answer her questions, he figured she could provide some good counsel, so he was willing to be honest about things he would have rather lied about. But this is tapping too deep inside the storm of emotions in his chest, and he just can't talk about it. He stays silent.

"I'm taking that as a yes, by the way."

Of course she is.

* * *

Something odd happens in her chest when Kaylie steps out of her trailer, walks a few steps, and by chance, glances back behind her shoulder and catches a glimpse of Nicky and Kelly, absorbed in conversation, knees touching, eyes conveying that some intimate subject is being broached. It's like a little tremor; not fear, not jealousy, even. Just... like she's seen this before, it wasn't nice, and she's actually tried to forget about it. She realizes that the sight made her eyebrows furrow together, which they would do if she were confused, but... she's not. Why can't she pin down what this feeling is?

"He loved you first." For a moment, she doesn't register that someone's voice said this. Actually, she isn't sure she heard this at all; maybe it was a thought. But then it's like her brain's gears start moving and it dawns on her that that was Austin's voice, announcing something that sounds important, out of the blue. She turns around and he's there, all 6'3'' of lean, tan muscle; a man she should know really well, but doesn't. And his apologetic, boyish smile always makes her feel like there's a chunk of those four years that were filled with him. She should remember it. She needs to.

"Hi, Austin." Kaylie tries to smile, but just nods in his direction. "What were you saying?"

"Come here," he murmurs encouragingly, motioning her over to the actor's break area, which is a nice shaded circle of chairs, and a middle table topped with small snacks, everything conveniently located close to all the most often-used sets. Kaylie complies, and sits down on a wooden chair, unsure of what to expect. She hasn't spent a lot of time with Austin outside of shooting episodes and doing promotional work for the series, but from what she's been able to gather, he's a fun, laid-back guy; the kind of boy who would have charmed every girl at the Rock. Heck, maybe he did. Maybe that's how he got _her_. "Apple?" Austin offers, already stuffing his pockets with bananas and a muffin. Slowly, she shakes her head, training a polite smile on her lips. Finally, he too sits down, sinking into a comfy couch. "I've been wanting to talk to you since I found out about the amnesia thing, Kaylie." His voice is entirely devoid of its usual playfulness, his eyes display none of its customary malicious glint. "Because I know you don't remember me—or us. And I don't know what you're gonna remember first, you know? Our fights, or when things were good..."

It's her cue to say something, so he doesn't feel like this is a bad time, like he's approaching her when she doesn't want to be approached. "I haven't really remembered much, to be honest. Just... an argument we had."

"Kaylie." His voice is so soft, so tentative, like he doesn't want to hear himself. "We didn't have a clean break-up, and it was my fault. Before you start remembering bits of pieces of our relationship and get weird around me, I need to explain that you kind of... taught me... how to be monogamous. That I wasn't relationship material before I met you. That I didn't think any one girl was gonna be able to hold my attention, but then you did."

"Why are you..." She doesn't finish her question, trailing off when he looks up at her and shifts in his seat a bit.

"I did a lot to try to win you over, and take me seriously. I made an ass out of myself in front of your parents. I cared more about your gymnastics than my own. The greatest moment of my life was when you let me kiss you after a party at my house, tied with the first time you actually kissed _me_—I didn't have to, like, talk you into it, or lean in first, you know? You did it because you wanted to, because you liked me." He chuckles to himself, as though still marveling at the events he's describing, and in a moment, Kaylie understands _everything_ he's saying, even the things he isn't saying, and all without remembering him. "I did all of that, and then all it took for me to lose you was for him to look at you, all the way from the other side of a restaurant. All it took was a second, and it was like there was a whole world with just the two of you, and after that you were pushing me out more and more, until it was over."

Kaylie has to clear her throat because she's sure it's become hoarse with misuse. "By 'him' you mean Nicky." But she knows this already.

"Yeah. Boy Scout," he agrees softly, smiling and shaking his head a bit. "If it had been any other girl, I wouldn't have cared. But you had my attention. Remember that, when it starts coming back to you—all the horrible things I said to you, because I was jealous, and sure that you had cheated on me. All the bad stuff was just some crap that I spewed out because I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before. You never talked to me about Russo, you only ever mentioned Carter Anderson. But there was always a wall up, and I thought everyone had walls. I thought maybe it was the anorexia, or your problems with your parents, or with Anderson and Lauren Tanner. All these things made it hard for you to trust people, to trust me, and let me in completely. But then at that restaurant I saw your face when he smiled at you, and he was the wall. Because he loved you first."

"Austin, you don't have to—"

He plows on determinedly, as though he's only going to have one chance to explain everything. "I want you to have this in the back of your mind, because you're probably going to remember the bad stuff first. But it wasn't all bad, Kaylie. We were together for a year. We did all that sappy stuff I thought I was too old to do—we ate by lakes, held hands, had food fights, made-out in the boy's locker room at the Rock. I even started texting because you loved texting. I watched chick flicks with you, and pretended I cared who was gonna end up with who. I listened to weepy music because you told me it made your heart slow down. You named your car 'Austin' because I named one of my cars 'Kaylie.' I want you to think about that," his voice is starting to sound pleading, "when you start to remember that I was angry, thinking you were sleeping with him, when you never slept with me. When you remember that I told you I hated you and regretted meeting you.

"That's not who I am. I was acting out of character. Ask anyone—ask Kelly, because she knows me best of all. She'll tell you. You know how we got together? During the months we were all training for the Olympics, she and I were watching you two, from the corner, angry that the two people who had gotten our attention now had each others' attention. She's just like me, you know? She and Russo were fuck-buddies, until he saw you at Nationals in 2011, with me, and just stopped wanting her. She didn't think she was meant to belong to anyone, either, until Russo made her think that it was possible to like only one person, for a very long time. We learned to have a longer attention span, we used to joke. We hated you two. And then we started to actually smile at you two, because you were so _uncool_, trying to keep it under wraps when everyone in the fucking world had seen that picture of you in the Olympic Village. Kelly and I were cool, because it was just sex. And then it wasn't just sex anymore, and we started hanging out for purposes other than to talk about you two. I envied how you looked at him, like everything always got better when you were around each other, but I started to have that with Kelly, too, and I understood. And then it stopped hurting, seeing you with Russo.

Kaylie hasn't moved a single muscle since he began to tell her all of this, and maybe she looks puzzled, because he leans forward and raises a hand to his temple, like he's trying to figure out how to explain everything in simpler terms. He's an entirely different person to her now. She hasn't remembered anything about him, but it's like he left a mark on her that only now she's gotten around to discovering on her own body. Nicky is an open, pulsing wound, still bleeding, and Austin is a scar she didn't even know had been there till now.

"Just... remember that I was a good guy. I was a good boyfriend. Your heart didn't skip over from Anderson to Russo. I was in there for a while, and it was good."

Kaylie swallows hard, leans back, and watches Austin with apprehension. Parts of his speech replay in her mind, still fresh, so that she can still hear it every time his voice grooved or faltered. Parts of his speech play with more frequency than others, however. And the part that drowns all the others out eventually is_"I saw your face when he smiled at you, and he was the wall. Because he loved you first."_

* * *

Following his talk with Kelly, Nicky is glad there aren't any romantic scenes to film, only stunts, because he's still digesting what she told him. Among other things, she explained that he needed to either stop the meaningless sex with Kaylie, or force some meaning into it. Neither option sounds very tempting to him, or particularly easy.

He's in the wardrobe area, having already changed into the leotard he'll be donning for his scenes. It's almost a relief to be in this outfit again; he missed it. The light, breathable fabric fits him like his own skin, and he can't help shaking his arms loose, like he's actually going to train right now. He can feel his muscles buzz excitedly, as the mere thought of climbing up those rings injects him with anticipation.

Two of the gymnastics coordinators begins to prepare him for warm-ups, and Nicky wholeheartedly immerses himself into it, relishing in the opportunity to practice his still rings skills once he's lifted to them. Closing his eyes, he allows his arms to adjust to his weight, and raises his legs to a perfectly straight, perpendicular angle. As he's beginning to feel his core muscles protest against the strain, he experiences a slight poke in his right temple and only has time to mentally complain about his brain's timing before a flashback is hurled his way.

"_So..." The National Team's luncheon is drawing to a close and everyone is already cheerily heading out. Nicky glances back and watches Kelly charming the pants and the dignity out of some poor gymnast from the east coast, and wonders whether she's fruitlessly attempting to make him jealous again. Then, his eyes roam a bit to the right and he sees Kaylie and Austin Tucker rising from their table, the perfect picture of a gymnastics romance. Do people still remember Kalicky, or has the entire world already been converted to KayAus? He turns and slowly makes his way towards the exit._

_KayAus... like "chaos"... ha ha ha..._

"_Nicky Russo, my man!" What did Austin Tucker just call him? Nicky snaps around and unfortunately his eyes fix on Kaylie's apologetic, slightly embarrassed smile, instead of on Austin, who tackles him in one of those manly jock hugs that Nicky has frankly never, ever been a fan of._

"_How are you, Tucker," Nicky asks in a monotone, refusing to infuse his voice with any sort of interest. Kaylie Cruz is his girlfriend. The girl he wishes he didn't still sort of have a huge thing for._

"_Never better," replies Austin with that lazy, chiseled smile of his that Nicky supposes makes girls all over the world swoon. Nicky, of course, is disgusted, especially when Austin happily throws an arm around Kaylie and she's comfortable with it._

_Well, he then can't help thinking, of course she's comfortable. That's her boyfriend. And she has no idea you like her._

"_Hey, Nicky," Kaylie greets, a lot more discreetly than Austin._

"_Hey, Kaylie. You good?" He wishes he didn't seem so goddamn, stupidly hopeful when he talks to her._

"_Never better," Kaylie echoes Austin with a small, sincere nod, and while Austin is laughing and tightening his hold on the girl with appreciation, Nicky's heart clenches a little bit._

"_What are you waiting for, man?" Austin asks, and Nicky realizes they're already at the door, and Nicky is just sort of standing there, while their car has already arrived._

_What would be a good way to answer that question? Austin is as interested as he would be in anything, but Kaylie is watching him intently, and he knows he can speak now and she'll be the one listening."Someone. But I'll wait till it's my time." _

Nicky opens his eyes, and they immediately zero in on Kaylie as she watches him, still suspended on the rings. He sees something in her expression, like fascinated pride, that he hasn't seen in anyone, really, aside from Kaylie herself during one of those YouTube videos of his performance in the Olympics when some smartass cameraman decided to zoom in on her reaction to a particularly difficult part of his routine. He notices that she's attired in a leotard, too, and the set was built to resemble parts of an Olympic stadium, so for a moment he wonders whether any Olympics-related memories will come back to him.

Slowly and deliberately he lowers himself from the rings and lands smoothly, clapping his hands clean of powder and hoping Kaylie will approach him, talk to him. And then she begins to walk towards him and he's caught off-guard by how rapidly his heart pounds when she's only a few feet away from him, looking stunning in her leotard. He has no idea where that fetus is.

"It's easier now, huh?" she inquires, motioning to the apparatuses with her chin, and he knows that she's comparing their gymnastics skills now, in 2014, to the ones they had in 2010.

"Definitely. Hanging like that from the still rings for five minutes? Didn't even notice." The cocky joke slips out before he can keep it in, but she laughs and he's pleasantly surprised, and immediately eager to see more of the happy Kaylie, and less of the one that hates her life and feels miserable.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything to enlarge your ego, but since it's so small and insignificant," she begins, and he knows he can't possibly smile any wider without breaking his face, "I'll just put it out there that your arms, 2014 version, are definitely a step-up from the 2010 ones."

Oh my God. His heart hurts, but in such a good way. They're having their first conversation in days, and it's just so... normal. Like this is how things are supposed to be.

"I can't wait, you know," he says smilingly, before he actually thinks about the words, "till that baby's out; he's gonna be crawling at our gym and naming the apparatuses like it's nothing."

It only takes one second. One second and the illusion of normalcy vanishes. Kaylie swallows hard and he remembers—goddamn it, he remembers, how painful this still is, and how this is the reason they never talk, so this topic won't have a chance of ever coming up.

But they're talking about this, so a desperate, heart-racing urgency takes over him and he decides that this can't go on any longer—he refuses to continue living like this; being without her is like being in a room slowly being filled with poison gas. He wants to breathe again, and he has no doubt Kaylie wants out of their suffocating restraints, too.

"I'm really looking forward to it," he asserts, inserting as much confidence as he can into the statement. He can't believe he's actually saying this; he's talking about it, and even telling her that he wants this, if she wants him. He nods once, for finality, and watches her reaction, hoping.

Come on, Kaylie. Come on. Please...

"Kaylie, Nicky," one of the production assistants calls out, much to Nicky's annoyance, and they both turn toward him, "we're still having problems installing the pommel horse so we're taking an hour break before shooting starts."

"Okay," Kaylie agrees quietly, then turns to Nicky again, and he knows, just knows, that she's going to pretend he never said anything. That's her way of coping with things she's unprepared for—she runs. But he isn't going to let her run this time. "So, since we have a break, I think I'm going to go over my lines for a bit, and—"

He never gives her the chance to finish her sentence. In one sweeping motion, more awkwardly than he imagined it (or is used to doing when being recorded), but effective all the same, he lifts her chin gently, and presses his lips softly against hers. He's kissed her on set for a week now; controlled, cold, detached, pretending she wasn't a drug he was hopelessly addicted to, pretending he didn't need her to kiss him back. Just this time, his mind and body will be in sync. Just once, he's going to kiss her the way he's wanted to.

* * *

**A/N: Rewriting this chapter was like pulling teeth. All of them. It was the labor of a lifetime (sorry if there are any mistakes, by the way), but at least I know next chapter should be easier to write, plot-wise. Thanks for your support and reviews, and please keep 'em, coming. :)**


	11. I don't pity hangout with just anyone

CHAPTER 11: I don't pity hang-out with just anyone

He's still watching her, even after she's walked away, entered the set, and disappeared from his sight. He knows where she's going—to Nicky, of course, because that's where she always goes at the end of the day—but he still wonders whether their conversation made any impact.

It's not that he wants her back. No. He's done chasing, he's done being crushed, and he loves—fucking loves—Kelly. But part of him still wants to protect Kaylie, and make sure life is kind to her. And he'd noticed that first day she came back from her vacation, how she looked at him like she didn't know him, like she was afraid of making the wrong impression, as though she didn't know that the impression had already been made four years ago. That glance she'd shot him when she first walked into the set, filled with the same sort of careful reluctance she'd had when he'd arrived at her gym and made waves—that glance has stayed with him, and its effect on him was only made stronger when the truth came out and he found out she had forgotten him. Literally forgotten him—every moment, every day, every interaction of the last four years had been buried. He didn't exist.

"You do realize she walked away a while ago." Kelly's voice is chillier than usual, but still rings pleasantly in his ear. He'd do anything for her.

Smirking, he turns to face her, and falters for a millisecond while he examines her annoyed scowl. She's jealous. Really, painfully jealous. The air around him suddenly feels insufficient, like something is clenching his throat.

"Kelly," he murmurs, willing his voice to carry strongly, "don't be like this."

She shakes her head, purses her lips, all in a grand display of disappointment. Her eyes announce that that talk they've been avoiding, fleeing from, is about to happen right now. Three years after getting to know each other, plotting revenge against the assholes that dumped them, she wants to talk about it _now_. They're getting married in a few months and she wants to talk about it _now_. She wants to know whether he's really over Kaylie... and he'll finally get to ask why her eyes avoid his when she tells him Nicky was just a fuck buddy.

"What did she do?" Kelly begins, tone a bit more weak than he had been expecting. "How did she do it, that even after being dumped by her, watching her marry another guy, then getting engaged yourself, you still care this much about her?"

Damn. He feels like she hit his ribcage with a sledgehammer.

Instead of waiting for a response, Kelly continues, like a lumberjack who isn't done hacking her tree from its upright position. "Was it because you had to fix her? Because she was a little frail bird you had to nurse back to health? Because her life was so fucked up that you immediately thought you could be her hero or some shit like that? I just want to know," she continues, like this is really all she wants to know, "because we're getting married in 4 months, and this is something that, against all reason, we haven't addressed yet. We've always been all about having fun. And we're always avoiding the things that aren't fun, like whatever remains of your feelings for her—"

He can't resist this opening, and interrupts her with an irritated "and whatever remains of your feelings for Russo."

Kelly is treating this like a damn tennis game, and now the ball is in her court. "Don't fucking mention him. I don't believe for a second that all this resentment towards him has to do with me, and him being my ex, rather than the fact that he stole Kaylie away from you like a fucking magic trick."

Goddamn. Kelly is vicious when she wants to be. This is the girl he's marrying, too; a girl who can tear him apart by arranging just the right words into order. "I resent him because he got the two girls I loved to love him first, instead of me," he admits tiredly, hoping this is it, and this conversation can end right now.

"She can't remember Nicky any more than she can remember you. So you're still in some sort of even playing field."

What?

He whips his head to stare at her, not fully grasping what she's trying to say.

"So... that means you have a chance to get her. You should try."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Yeah, and I'll try too. We need some closure on this." She looks so goddamn determined, and certain about this; meanwhile, he's still in shock. Is she really suggesting what he thinks she's suggesting? "I don't want to look at Nicky for the rest of my life and have this in the back of my mind, the same fucking feeling of rejection I'm sure you still have when you look at Kaylie."

"Kelly! What the hell!" He can't even wrap his head around all the levels of wrong in this. Nicky and Kaylie are married. He and Kelly are engaged. So what... how... why... "It's not like we have any more of a chance of not being rejected now than we had back then. Come on; you can't be serious."

"I am. Until this whole memory thing is over, and they go back to the way they're supposed to be, you're free. We're free. Let's do with this freedom whatever we want."

"Kelly, I don't want to win Kaylie over—I love you. And it's fucking me up that you want a second shot with Nicky."

Kelly frowns, like she does when she's being misunderstood and this is the farthest thing from her mind. "I love you, too."

But of course, she won't be bothered with an explanation; instead, she hails a golf cart and pushes him inside. He hates these little wheeled boxes, because he never quite fits inside one, but this time his mind doesn't register the discomfort. It's too busy tensing his whole body, and struggling to find some way to talk back to Kelly. Once he's completely stuffed inside, she gently cups his chin and raises it so that his eyes are more or less on level with her.

"Go finish your scenes." Smiling nervously, she bend down, tilts her head slightly, and allows her lips to connect with his for one brief, breathless moment. Austin is so dazed his mouth remains opens even after she's waved off the cart's driver and he's en route to complete his filming.

"You know what?" He turns to his driver, and is only slightly aware that he's clenching his hands into fists so tightly that his nails are digging into his palm. "Step on it."

* * *

She feels that kicking urge to run, almost instantly. To back away from him and take off, somewhere, nowhere in particular—anywhere—just to avoid talking about this, and having him admit that he feels as stuck with her as she thinks he does. But it only takes her a second to shift her focus instead to the fact that she has kissed these lips before; she knows her way around them, so to speak, and she's tasted and felt them before, but yet... this feels different. Why is it so different? She's not even kissing him back, she's that surprised by it. Slowly, carefully, Nick leans back and breaks the kiss, and watches her expectantly, but all she can do is frown, and think about this.

Does he... like her? Like, _like her_ like her? Because that kiss felt like...

It feels like the case here, but she has a hard time believing it, and even processing this.

"Nicky." She says pointedly, slightly out of breath.

"Yes." He's a lot firmer, and is watching her so intently that she purses her lips with apprehension. But then she realizes that she can still taste his kiss and it's disarming her.

"You..." It's so hard to say everything in her mind, because the feelings are so raw. The risk of putting them out there, exposing herself, and being crushed and rejected is daunting. "You don't have to stay with me."

She's scared. Actually, she's fucking terrified. She's sick with dread, that she's giving him permission to leave her, and go live his life, and try to remember things on his own, while she's pregnant and has a completely different life than she did in 2010.

"What?" His eyebrows have shot up into his forehead, like he has no idea what she's talking about. She wishes he weren't so dimwitted sometimes, because now she has to explain everything she means, and it's going to hurt. She looks into his eyes, examining their odd mixture of brown and green coloring, and wills her heart to slow down. Once she figures she's regained some of her control, she takes a deep breath.

"I mean, none of this is what you wanted, or planned for. I know, because I remember how things were in 2010, and I know I wasn't your choice then. It was Payson. It doesn't matter that four years have passed—right now you're that Nicky from 2010, and you didn't choose me. You didn't choose to marry me, or have this child, and it would be unfair for you to feel like you have to deal with all this just because _in the future_, things worked themselves into what we have now. So I guess what I'm saying is that... I want you to have the choice. If you'd like to live your life, and make sense of things on your own, then do that."

Her eyes have been avoiding his during her entire speech, and when she's done, as though a weight has been lifted from her, she finally raises her head and is able to look at him.

"No. No." Nicky is shaking his head adamantly, but isn't making it clear what, exactly, he's saying no to. "Come on." He grabs her hand without asking, pulls her in hurried steps towards the set's exit. "We need to talk about this."

He's practically running, but she can't run with him, even as he's trying to gently pull her by the arm. He wants to get her some place where they can talk, but hasn't he considered the possibility that maybe she doesn't want to do that—at all? That maybe she's so scared of what he's going to say that she'd rather just hide somewhere?

In a second—and really, all it took was a second—Nicky had reached the exit, and stepped onto the road outside of their set. In that second, that stretched and stretched just before her eyes, he'd stopped there and turned to her, and given her that look like he was reaching for her without moving his hands at all, and it was almost like she could hear his voice inside her head, even when he stayed silent. Why? Why of all moments, this is when she had to see that he had become so much a part of her that he was like her heatbeat?

In the next second, a golf cart carrying its driver and Austin had slammed into him and thrown his body back as though all that bulk and those muscles she'd spent hours admiring weighed nothing more than a few pounds. It was strange how she saw everyone rush to Nicky, and saw Austin's horror and his yells for medical help, but how she didn't _really_ see or hear any of that. Not really.

All she really saw was him.

* * *

Uhn... oh my God... his head hurts...

Slowly, he opens his eyes, and a sea of blurry white slams his eyes shut again. Wherever he is, he's not in his room, and he might have possibly been staring at the sun.

He tries again. And it's much better. In fact, he can now sort of take a look around. It's a difficult task, however, because he's telling his head to move to the side so he'll be able to look some place other than the ceiling, but... he can't really move. Which is terrifying.

A jolt of panic sends his entire body into overdrive and he snaps up into a sitting position, only to realize that:

1) apparently, he's in a hospital

2) he has the world's strongest headache

3) he can move his legs and arms (THE RELIEF!)

4) uh... Kaylie Cruz is sleeping beside his bed, using a "Get Well" teddy bear as a pillow

_Okay_... of all people, Kaylie Cruz is the one at his bedside after he presumably had some sort of injury? Where's his dad? Is he in the Denver hospital where his father works? And oh my God—what kind of injury has he sustained? Was he training? Was it that difficult still rings maneuver Sasha was working on with him? How long will it be before he can train again and compete?

Oh my God. What if he can't do gymnastics anymore? What if the injury is as severe as Payson's was? WHAT IF—

"Hey," he hears Kaylie call our softly, and he turns to her immediately. Her voice is weary. Actually, she looks weary. And a bit older, but he's heard that's one of those things you don't say to women. She's actually really attractive, topping every male gymnast's list, but that's something you don't say to women either.

"Hi." He can't help the question mark at the end of his greeting. Because really, what the hell is Kaylie Cruz doing at his beside?

"How are you feeling?" Jesus Christ. The girl sounds really worried, like she can barely keep the tension off her words, as though there are some horrible stakes to what his answer will be.

And that only worries him more. What's going on here?

"I'm fine. Do you know where my dad is?"

There's a quick frown that overcomes her features, but she doesn't reply, and he figures out that Kaylie Cruz doesn't really know his father. It's not like he ever took off the time from his doctor duties to accompany his son's gymnastics career.

"Never mind. Listen, I... I'm not sure why you're here... I appreciate that yesterday we were able to shake hands and start getting along and everything, but..." Shit. Her eyes are really wide. He's insulting her. Basically, he just told her he wishes she hadn't been standing vigil over his unconscious body. But wait! That's not what he meant! "I'm glad you took the time to stay here for... however much time you've stayed here, but really, you don't have to. But I really need to talk to either Sasha or my dad. Can you help me out?"

"I..." It's like she can't breathe; like something of enormous significance has happened right in front of her and she's staring at him like nothing is right. "Well... um..." Does she have bad news? Is that it? And she's probably the only genuine charismatic girl in the gym so that's why the Rock adults sent her to stay with him? Did Sasha have more important things to do? "I should probably... actually... no. But... um..."

Wow. Kaylie Cruz rambles. Horribly.

"Just... I'll be right back," she whispers tersely, then practically runs out of the room. Great. Now he's all alone in this uncomfortable hospital bed, and no one is telling him what is going on.

* * *

"What the fuck are we going to tell him?" Kelly asks, devoid of the harshness her less-than-polite language usually would bring.

Kaylie, for her part, had wound down from horrifically panicked post-cart accident, to sickly worried right now as they discuss Nicky's latest memory problem. Ike is the one who stands up, his medical attire supplying some much needed expertise to this conversation. "Nothing. We will not do anything. Because any emotional shock can further damage his brain in its state of current swelling."

"Do you know why he's gone back to that time?" Kaylie inquires quietly.

"The brain is a very, very delicate tissue," Ike begins, probably unaware that by now all three other people in this room know that it's a bad sign when he gives them an anatomy lesson instead of answering the question. "When he was run over by the cart, he bumped his head much like he did when you two were rehearsing the bullfight routine, which is what caused all of this in the first place. That first time you trained for it, in 2009, left a fissure in his frontal lobe and hippocampus, both areas of the brain that control memory retention and creation." He sighs, eying their vacant looks with resignation. "When he hit his head again, there was some swelling in that region, suggesting that the fissure may have increased in size. The swelling is still going down—it'll probably take a few days... anyway, there's no way of pinpointing exactly why this is happening again, but if I can make an educated guess, I'd say that whenever his brain suffers a traumatic injury, his memories go back to that first time he injured it, in 2009."

Austin figures this makes a lot of sense, but immediately he wonders whether Nicky can compete normally in gymnastics if he's always at risk for memory loss.

"So... does that mean he won't remember the things that happened this past month?" Kaylie asks, Austin watches Kelly lean forward with interest, almost instinctively. Of course. If it's still 2009 to Nicky, that means he's not in love with Kaylie yet. He can't help grinding his teeth at the realization that Kelly's wheels are spinning wildly with schemes.

"There's no way of knowing. For now, however," Ike replies curtly, walking away from them and sitting on his desk, "we must make sure he suffers no emotional shocks. Much of our memory is linked to emotion, and any strain in his brain right now could have unpredictable consequences."

Kelly shoots a look at Kaylie's forlorn form and clears her throat. "Well, how can we avoid the emotional shocks? He's going to figure out that everyone looks different, and he doesn't live in Boulder or Denver anymore, and the whole marriage and Kaylie starting to show..."

As she lists these prominent facts, Kaylie's eyes end up meeting his, and he feels a small tug in his gut that he can't read her, and has no idea what she's thinking about right then.

"Well, if isolation from the world is our only option, then that's what we shall do. He will remain here in the hospital until—"

"That's a bad idea," Kaylie interrupts the doctor, countering with "you won't be able to keep an eye on him at all times, and all he would need to do is ask some random passerby what day it is and this whole plan would fail."

"So... keep him in your house?" Ike deduces, softening his doubtful features the longer he considers her proposal.

"Yes. I'll have our staff remove all the paintings and pictures and medals and whatever could show him that we're married, and we'll just stay in the house until the swelling goes down, like you said," Kaylie explains hurriedly, then adds, "I'll stay with him, since the network gave me as many days off as I need to be with him during his recovery, because they don't want me to sue them or quit the show."

Ike seems to have been won over, and lifts himself off the desk to approach her and carefully lay a hand on her shoulder. "All right. Your plan seems good. Once the swelling is down, we'll schedule the surgery to repair the fissure."

With a quick nod, Kaylie agrees and manages to form a small smile. "Okay. When is he being discharged?"

"He'll need to spend the night, but tomorrow morning he can leave."

A collective sigh sweeps the room, and both Austin and Kelly stand up to leave the room, while out of the corner of his eye, Austin sees Ike pull Kaylie by the arm to prevent her from leaving. As soon as the door is closed, he watches with indignation as Kelly blatantly eavesdrops from a crack in the window, and is about to berate her when he realizes that...

Damn it. It's muffled, but _he_ can also hear Ike talking through the same crack Kelly is leaning against with a self-satisfied smile. And of course he's curious too, about what they're talking about that they had to shoo him and Kelly out.

"How are you doing? Do you want me to refer you to anyone, maybe get some treatment for you?" Ike offers, in some way that doesn't sound like he's implying she needs professional help to handle her stress.

"I'm okay. Really, I am," Kaylie reassures, before complementing that with the far more honest, "I'm just worried. And scared."

"Payson still doesn't know about the whole memory thing, she's so caught up on rebuilding the Rock. But," Ike continues, "I know how close you two are, and I'm sure that if you need a friend right now, no one would be better than Payson."

"It's fine, really, I'd hate to bother her when she's busy," Kaylie assures with a barely audible chuckle. "Besides, as you already know, Nicky had that ginormous crush on Payson in 2009."

They're both laughing softly, as though this is some private joke, and Austin figures he'd probably think this was funnier if he didn't know exactly how Kelly uses this sort of information. Because even the wheels in _his_ head are turning, and if he's thinking that Nicky crushing on Payson means he has no feelings for Kaylie, then Kelly has arrived at this conclusion already.

Shit. One look at Kelly's mischievous grin, and Austin knows that this is the same girl that terrorized every female gymnast in America for years, re-emerging like some devious phoenix.

* * *

It's sort of... disconcerting... to wake up again in the middle of the night to see Kaylie Cruz sleeping once again at his bedside, with the same teddy bear from last time.

She left in a hurry that first time he woke up and found out he was in a hospital, but drowsiness took over him again as soon as she was out of the room. Now that he's awakened again, the entire room is sort of dark, only faintly illuminated by a weak lamp on his bedstand.

Well. If no one's telling him what's going on, then he figures that maybe he can investigate it for himself. He's watched some medical shows and his father is a doctor, so he's aware that sometimes, patient paperwork is kept in a plastic file nailed outside the room's door. So all he needs to do is get there without making all the monitoring machines sound off their "cardiac arrest" alarms. All he needs to to, really, is just sit up, remove this blanket...

"Do you need to go to the bathroom?" Kaylie asks groggily, squinting her eyes as she looks at him blankly and doesn't notice that he's paralyzed in place, his guilt stamped all across his face.

"Hi there," he greets uncomfortable, slowly settling back into place and tucking his blanket around his body again. "Good to see you're still here... and no, I was just... stretching."

"Oh. Okay." She yawns a bit, then eyes him with a look he can't quite figure out. It's only a few seconds long, but because he refuses to look away, it becomes some sort of staring contest until he's distracted by a movement she's making with her hands. He lowers his gaze to her lap region and sees her playing with a ring on her finger. Wait a second... left hand, ring finger...

"That's a nice ring you got there. I must have been out for a while if you're married now."

She's been looking drained and overall sad for these few minutes he's interacted with her, but after he mentions her ring, her eyes widen and suddenly she seems a lot more lively than before.

"Oh. This. This is not a wedding ring. It's just a regular ring. You know... girl... stuff..." In all his years of growing up at the Rock and watching Kaylie Cruz in her usual habitat, he's never seen her ramble, or stammer like now. Or ever. Somehow, seeing her flustered and blushing has a humanizing effect on her, so that he can no longer think of her solely as the Rock girls posse leader. That and the fact that she's here, by his bed, and didn't leave even after he was rude to her. There's a reason for all this, but he can't think of it and doesn't want her to leave again if he asks.

Oh well. He's not tired or sleepy anymore, and has no one to talk to. So why not carry a conversation with her? He's not the gym's most talkative guy, but that's because it disrupts his training, which won't be the case here.

"It's a nice ring. Who gave it to you?" Probably her mother, he thinks, remembering some of the things his mother left him before she died.

"Well..." she says, and blushes an even stronger shade of red that immediately piques his attention. "It's from this guy that I really like."

"Carter Anderson?"

She actually laughs now, and it has a nice sound to it. Has he ever heard her laugh? Probably not. He was so busy dismissing her despising the carelessness with which she handled gymnastics—like a hobby. Sasha had called her "the complete package" and of course Nicky had considered that a laughable declaration. But then, of course, their talk during the bullfight routine rehearsal had clarified a few things... namely, that she's actually a dedicated and skilled gymnast, and now none of those bold declarations regarding her talent sounded hollow to him.

"No, not him... someone else."

"You're not going to tell me who it is? I'll start guessing every male at the Rock," he threatens lightly with a teasing smile. "Do I know him?"

"Yes," she laughs again, "you know him. Nicky, I'm not telling you anything so you can stop guessing."

"Fine," he concedes, then decides that seeing her flustered was the most fun he's had in a while and asks, "does he like you?"

Kaylie, sadly, isn't flustered, but does frown. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're here, with me, instead of with him."

She purses her lips, for some reason trying to hide another smile that's creeping onto them. She has a nice mouth.

"I don't really know how he feels, but I'm guessing he won't be mad about this."

"I'll find out who he is. You know how the gossip mill works at the Rock," he comments, leaning back and closing his eyes for no other reason than to feel less distracted by her looks. How is it for a girl to look like her? To instantly grab everyone's attention wherever she goes? He considers these questions from a scientific perspective, of course, because he's not attracted to her. It's just... like admiring a great work of art. The beauty is undeniable, even if you don't really like it, per se. Payson, on the other hand, was also beautiful, but more discreetly so—she didn't slap anyone with her looks. But then, Payson was the kind of girl you grew into... you started to see her determination and fell for that.

Well, no, he didn't fall for her gymnastic talent, he fell for _her_. Right? Why was he even asking himself this? Because of the girl sitting a few feet away from his bed? What did Kaylie have to do with this?

"Are you hungry?" he hears her ask, then when he opens his eyes, she's standing over him with an apologetic smile and a small carton of orange juice.

Smilingly, he takes it and has poked the straw through it before he notices that she's still watching him, standing close to the bed, thoughts apparently very far away.

"You don't have to stay here, you know." His words startle her a bit, but she shakes her head slightly.

"No, it's okay. I'm not tired." She sighs, then straightens, and asks nervously, "unless you want me to leave?"

Being left alone in a hospital shouldn't sound so unappealing, but it does. And it's not that he wants someone else with him; if anyone is going to be hovering near his bed, he'd rather it be Kaylie than anyone else. The implications of that realization are probably bad—that knock to his head must have been really strong if he's developing a crush on Kaylie—but he decides not to linger on that. "No, I want you to stay."

Kaylie doesn't hide that she's taken aback by that, which surprises him. She was expecting him to kick her out? Really? "Oh. Okay. Good. I'm glad."

"What day out of the week is it?" he asks, trying to engage her in comfortable conversation again while enjoying the refreshment from his juice.

"Sunday. Well, it's past midnight, so now it's Monday, but it was Sunday. Why?"

Good. So she didn't skip out on her training at the Rock to be here. "What did you miss out on by spending your Sunday here in a hospital?"

"Well, there was my date with Brad Pitt... I also had bowling scheduled with the president," she says with a smile, which he promptly returns.

"I feel really special, being your charity of the week."

"You should. I don't pity hang-out with just anyone," she continues, and this time he laughs and throws her his empty carton of juice, purposely missing.

While their laughter subsides, he stares into her eyes and notices a flicker of something unrecognizable flash in them. No, not unrecognizable—he does sort of recognize it, like a deja vu. But he doesn't know what it is... like he's forgotten what it means. "How long are we going to stay here?" he asks, maintaining the smile curving his mouth so comfortably. He's not a guy to talk, or smile, so why he's behaving like this is really beyond him.

"You're being discharged in the morning. Well..." She glances at her cellphone, "in a few hours. I'll stay with you until then, if you want, and then..." Kaylie suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Well, that's not important right now. A few hours."

A few more hours with her actually sounds great. And then they'll probably go to the Rock and train afterwards... "What's it gonna take for you to tell me who the guy is?"

Kaylie laughs, and dramatically removes her ring, placing it inside her purse and closing it with a pointed look. "You'll have to torture it out of me."

"You told me that you're not sure whether he likes you," Nicky says, and for some reason talking about her romantic life—which would usually disgust him beyond belief—seems like a good, comfortable, topic of conversation. "I don't think any guy would give a girl a ring unless he had feelings for her."

He can almost see Kaylie's breath hitch, before she attempts to cover it up by reaching into her purse and pulling out a small pot of jell-o for him. "I guess you're right."

"So you know what that means?" he asks, anticipating his own joke while she distractedly opens the jell-o and gives it to him.

"What does that mean?" She's sort of business-like and hurried, but he plows on, because he just wants to hear her laugh again.

"It means that guy will definitely be jealous that you blew him off this Sunday to be with another guy. You better find an alibi."

Kaylie doesn't laugh, but she does smile, and it seems honest and warm. "Eat your jell-o, Russo. You give the worst romantic advice I've ever seen."

Yeah, he probably does, Nicky laughs to himself as he obediently devours his jell-o. If he were this guy she's been talking about, he would probably be jealous of her all the time too. He wouldn't want to lose her. So yeah. Everything makes sense. He smiles gratefully at Kaylie again, because she seems to instinctively know when he's starving, but she has that faraway look again so he focuses back on his spoon and digs in again.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry for the delay, guys. This was a fun chapter to rewrite, because I didn't remember how to get to one point from another, so most of the conversation was freshly written. I hope it was worth the wait. I'll get cracking on the next one. Thanks for all the reviews, because when I think about just laying this to rest, your words of encouragement make it worthwhile. =)


	12. Do you know karate?

CHAPTER 12: Do You Know Karate?

Kaylie briefs all the house maids, drivers, and general staff by phone while Ike instructs Nicky on the prescriptions he's taking for the swelling in his brain, being careful to avoid any mention that he has in fact forgotten four years of his life—again. The official story is that Nicky sustained an impact to his head while training for the bullfight routine (and was unconscious for two days), which Nicky readily accepts because that's his last memory. Ike tells him that depending on the degree of swelling, some surgery may be needed, but of course Nicky isn't fearful for his brain—he continually asks when he'll be able to train again, which is precisely what everyone expected. Ike is annoyed by his insistence, but Kaylie smiles, because this is exactly who Nicky is. She would have been worried if he _hadn't_ asked that question five hundred times.

She wonders whether the fleeting moments in which Nicky frowns, examining Ike's face with a slightly cocked head, means that he's recognizing Ike from somewhere, which was the same uneasy sensation she had for so long when she first woke up in 2014. But he never says anything, and apparently has no flashbacks like the ones they had before, which alarms her a bit. She forces her mind to settle down, and wait things out. He will remember. He has to.

What if he remembers the wrong thing at the wrong time?

During the last few minutes of Nicky's final examination before he's discharged, Kaylie realizes that there is no reason why Nicky would stay in her house instead of his own unless they develop an even more elaborate lie involving his father. Apprehensively, she calls Mr. Russo and isn't surprised when the man is instantly worried and eager to take the next flight from his medical conference in Helsinki to LA. She relates to him all the major happenings of the past month, leaving out the less-than-appropriate stuff—like their sex life for an example—before calling Ike over to explain the medical part of the whole thing. For the next fifteen minutes, Nicky is changing out of his hospital gown and all Kaylie can hear from Ike is jargon followed by more unintelligible jargon.

Thirty minutes later, they've arrived at their mansion and inevitably, Nicky wants to know why, exactly, she's taken him to some strange house, in a city that he's pretty sure isn't Boulder.

"Your father wanted you to stay close to the hospital while he's not here to look after you," Kaylie replies easily, hoping he doesn't find any obvious holes in that story. "So I offered my house."

"You have a house in LA? How come?"

Oh. She hadn't really considered an explanation for that.

"Well. My parents do. You know, for business."

"So are they here?" What he's really asking is whether they're going to be by themselves, and immediately Kaylie mentally curses her lack of foresight. That's something else she hadn't thought of—why her parents would allow her to play host slash nurse to a boy, without any adult supervision.

"Yeah... they're... they left some of the house staff to chaperone us... but no, they're not here."

That seems to appease his curiosity at least for the moment, and Kaylie takes a quick peek around their large lobby-like entrance before opening the door completely and letting him in, just to check whether the maids did as instructed and removed all the Olympics memorabilia and pictures, as well as the personalized calendars, mugs, and other decorations the old them had managed to stuff the house with.

She figures Nicky is tired, so she leads him directly to the guest room she selected for him.

"So I'm guessing by this palatial estate that your parents are slightly wealthier than everyone thinks," he comments drily as she helps him set up.

"Well... it's... not really, I mean," she mumbles uncomfortably, before she looks up from the bag of clothes she'd been helping him empty, and notices his nervous smile. Suddenly she realizes that he's trying to fill the silence—she hasn't said a word since they arrived. "Are you hungry?" she asks, abruptly changing the subject.

"Yes. All that jell-o did nothing for me."

"Okay, I'll have them make you something. Any preference?" He's trying to read her, she knows. Trying to find out why she's so restrained, so reluctant to say anything to him. In the hospital it was almost okay to be playful, because they were in an unfamiliar setting. But this is their home; he should have countless memories of them here, and she's on edge wondering when they'll resurface. If he knew how uneasy she is, how afraid she is that she'll say the wrong thing and cause him to remember something he shouldn't, he would understand why she can't quite look him in the eye.

"No," he replies after a few seconds. "Anything is good."

Kaylie asks the cooks whether there are any foods Nicky usually likes, and within minutes Kaylie is watching him devour a plate of blueberry waffles.

"This is really good," he manages to say appreciatively in between bites, and she can't help a small smile from playing on her lips. Yes, this boy is a gymnastics-obsessed robot, but he's still a boy; his stomach is like a black hole.

"I'm glad you like it."

"No, really; I think these are the best waffles I've ever had," he insists, then looks up from his food in time to catch her smile before she's able to hide it. "You're not going to eat anything? You don't look too good."

She's nauseous. Horribly, horribly nauseous. Even those injections can't keep the nausea away some mornings, and this is one of those mornings.

"I'm just a little under the weather," Kaylie tells him with an indifferent shrug, concealing all the discomfort in her stomach. "Do you want more waffles?"

"No, I'm good. These are great." He chews for a bit and swallows, before turning to her again and asking, "did you make these?" He's smiling, widely, and she gets the feeling that he's relieved, glad to be out of the hospital.

"No, the cooks made them," she explains, smiling again and watching him take a sip from his orange juice. "I could burn this house down trying to make those."

He laughs, and she wonders how that self-deprecating comment managed to slip past her defenses. She's not that sort of girl around boys; the one who makes fun of herself. She'll make fun of the guy, yes, but something about pointing out her own flaws always made her uncomfortable. Somehow, with Nicky, these defenses she's had all her life are kind of... disarmed.

"I need to tell this to the Rock boys," he remarks lightly, interrupting her dazed train of thought. "They're under some impression that you're perfect or something."

"I'm sure they don't really..." she begins to say with a scoff, then stops and widens her smile, before she can restrain herself. "Wait a second... was that you flirting with me?"

He chokes on his juice, sending a few droplets of it all around, and Kaylie comes very, very close to bursting out laughing. "No, that wasn't... uh... it... came out wrong."

"Really." She's great at maintaining a good poker face, but it's almost coming apart.

"Of course," he tells her firmly, then she guesses he sees how close she is to laughing, and adds with a shrug. "I flirt much better than that."

With surprise, she leans back and raises her eyebrows. "Ha. You did not just say that. That needs to be seen to be believed."

"It'll come out when I'm distracted," he comments, chuckling and wiping his chin off with a nearby napkin to remove the juice he spilled on himself. She notices that he missed a rather large drop of juice sitting comfortably on his cheek, so she steps off her stool and gently takes another napkin to assist him.

The proximity is slightly awkward, but they've been (a lot) closer so it's easy for her to shove it aside and lean down, catching a glimpse of his bright eyes before concentrating on wiping his cheek. "I've trained with you long enough to believe that nothing distracts you," she murmurs once she's finished, looking at him with a satisfied smile. That's when she notices that he's not quite as comfortable as she is, and looks rather... entranced.

"You do."

Kaylie blinks twice, not quite understanding whether he's being serious or they're still joking.

Quickly, he slides his stool back and, alarmed, begins to apologize. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking... I was kidding about being good at flirting. I'm sorry. It wasn't meant... I was just..." Kaylie smiles then, because he's adorable when he's rambling and stammering and insecure. She knows she should be careful—that warning light is still flashing in her mind, urging her to remember how easy it was to get hurt and how even easier it was to fall for him, but... it just doesn't seem that important at the moment, not with him grinning as he catches on that she's not insulted, but amused.

"Oh, so _that _was flirting?" She feigns shock and dips every subsequent word with light-hearted sarcasm. "Wow. I hadn't noticed. You're very, very subtle."

That's when he laughs and runs a hand through his unruly hair, almost admitting defeat. "Well, if that one didn't work, I could use the old-fashioned ones. Do you know karate? Because your body is kicking."

It's her cue to laugh, and she does—carefree and joyous, not worried about the amnesia or the pregnancy, or 2014.

"Are you tired?" she retorts, and he's laughing too, expecting the punchline. "Because you've been running through my mind all day."

"Was that an earthquake or did you just rock my world?" Nicky shoots back, sliding his stool forward and toward her, and Kaylie can't control the giddiness currently overcoming her reluctance to be this close to him.

"Here I am, so what are your other two wishes?" she retorts, taken aback by how cheesy the line is, and how much fun this exchange is being. Nonetheless, now that they're closer, they're both lowering their voices, and it makes the air around her feel charged with some sort of intimate, breathtaking electricity.

Nicky, for his part, is smiling wider than she's ever seen, and Kaylie can't look at the curve of his lips and his perfectly white teeth for too long without feeling that familiar fluttering inside her chest that she's tried so hard to get a hold of in the past. Is this what their marriage was like? Laughing and bantering, and this easy attraction she can't fight?

"Do you have a sunburn or are you always this hot?"

Kaylie blushes, looking down at her feet and chuckling before raising her head to face him again. He's watching her expectantly, still grinning excitedly and unknowingly squeezing her heart. "All right, you win," she concedes with a low laugh.

"What do I win?" he asks, eyes searching her face.

She's got a feeling Nicky is being a guy right now—he might want to ask her out, or something like that. But... well... they're married, and she's pregnant. Oh, right!

Immediately, she steps back, nervously, knotting her fingers together anxiously. She was so careless, allowing herself to be so close to him.

"The honor of being the cheesier flirt between us two," she replies, trying to smile as freely as before, silently urging Nicky to stop frowning and questioning her change in demeanor.

"Oh, okay," he agrees, somewhat less excited than before after observing the distance she created between them. "Well, the pancakes are a good enough prize..."

Kaylie is relieved when one of the house maids approaches her and murmurs quietly that the pool has been refilled after the reconstruction. And suddenly she feels as lost as she did back when she had just woken up and was exploring the house for the first time, because really—they have a pool? Where?

"You have a pool?" Nicky asks, not impressed as much as curious, and with an uneasy tug in her stomach, Kaylie realizes the polite thing will be to invite him, and he will accept. What sort of excuse can she use for why she can't change into a swimsuit, lest he see evidence of her pregnancy—or weight gain, if he's dense? Well, he might not want to swim... there is still the slight chance...

"Yes, we do... do you want to go for a swim?"

"Oh, yeah; that sounds great."

Damn.

* * *

Nicky has always loved swimming. The Olympic-sized pool in his own home was where he relaxed when too much gymnastics began to weigh down on him. So when he finally got to dive in and feel his body slide through the water easily, he was sure that whatever was going on with his world at the moment—his mysterious injury, the upcoming surgery, his missing father, and his apparent crush on Kaylie—all that could be put aside for the moment, and his mind could drift away.

When he surfaces, he wipes his eyes and notices Kaylie sitting by the water, legs crossed and arms at her sides, watching him with that same darn faraway look she gets whenever they're in silence and she's thinking. This is an indoor pool encased in glass walls, so there's an abundance of sunlight washing the room and illuminating her.

"You're not coming in?" he calls out, and she's snapped to attention, eyes sharpened into focus.

"No, I'm good."

In two strokes, his arms have pulled him to the edge of the pool, by where she is sitting and wearily looking at him. "You sure? It's good in here."

"I told you I was under the weather..." she reminds him weakly, and that's when he notices that her eyes keep lowering to his torso. Does that mean she likes what she's seeing? The possibility that maybe Kaylie Cruz is attracted to him sends a rush of blood to his head. Damn—he really likes her.

Every time he ever felt attracted to a girl, he would shut it down because training was so much more important. But he simply _can not_ shut it down this time; Kaylie Cruz is somehow managing to push training! Nationals! Worlds! The Olympics! And all other exclamation-marked thoughts in his head to the background.

What the hell is he going to do? He's not good with girls; Payson is evidence of that. He didn't handle that well, kissing her before they even had some sort of date, or something to build a momentum on, or something. Maybe he can do better this time, with Kaylie. Because this one he really, really, doesn't want to mess up. This one feels different.

"Do you want me to take you a hospital?" he asks distractedly, mind searching for a good topic of conversation that will give him an opportunity to make her laugh. He would love to do that again; her laughter is infectious and terribly addicting.

"Nicky, we just got out of one."

Crap. That's true. He's being stupid. Quick! Recover! "Right. Of course. So this time I can be the one creepily watching you sleep." Shit! He just called her creepy!

Strangely, though... Kaylie is actually... smiling... "You should have been flattered, you idiot. Remember I had plans with the president?"

"Oh, right. And Brad Pitt, don't forget," he jokes along, laughing and still recovering from his embarrassment. "I'm really grateful that you were with me, though," he begins, figuring he should formally thank her. "I didn't think a girl like you would make time for a guy she doesn't know."

"It was nothing. And creepily watching you sleep beats bowling with Obama, any day," she assures him with a laugh, and the sound of it... it's so nice, and fills him with such contentment...

"You know, that guy you like is really lucky." It slips out before he can help it; that little fact he's been ignoring as he discovers how much fun Kaylie is, and how much he wishes he could spend time with her more often: she likes someone else already.

Kaylie is visibly caught off-guard. Nicky almost curses under his breath—things were going so well, why did he bring up the other guy? "I don't know whether he likes me," she murmurs, sounding worried, or tense. Is she wondering whether she should be with that guy right now instead of him?

"Why do you like him?" he queries, and now he's the one who's worried, because he might have sounded a little too invested in her response.

Kaylie either doesn't notice his impassioned tone, or ignores it. "He's just... I can't talk to you about him," she says firmly, looking away from him and out to the water as though this will convince him not to insist on the subject.

She's right, isn't she? He's overstepping his bounds, interrogating her on her personal life, when they're not even friends.

He pushes his body away from the pool corner and out onto the water, and his eyes lock with hers for a moment that stretches and stretches, like when you try to pull a slice from a pizza and the melted cheese strands don't break.

Is he the only one feeling this?

He's not this guy, he's never really wanted to date anyone. Even with Payson, it wasn't like this. He had been perfectly content watching her from afar for years, admiring her gymnastic skill, until he felt attraction for the first time and kissed her.

Kaylie, however, has some sort of fucking strong gravity he had been unaware of all this time. Yes, Kaylie Cruz is pretty, he'd agreed with all the other boys, but she's a bad gymnast. The training for the bullfight routine had dissolved the prejudice he'd maintained against her for so long. And now he could notice other things about her, like how truly stunning she looks all the time, how nice she is—didn't she win the Rocky every year?—and how easy she makes it to want to be with her.

But he's not this guy. Gymnastics is his life, his sole focus. And besides, she has a guy already. He needs to step back. He's the one to look away first, and pulls himself under the water again, planning to swim a few laps before the end of the afternoon. After the first lap, out of curiosity, he glances at the spot Kaylie was sitting, and finds, with a sinking heart, that she's no longer there.

He could just go on swimming. He could ignore his languid heartbeats and how every muscle in him is trying to get him to always stand closer to her. He could be the Nicky he's always been. But then...

He's pulling himself off the pool and retracing his steps rapidly back to the house and the kitchen before he has time to complete that thought. The fact that he's dripping wet, splashing droplets of water all around him while attired only in his damp swimming briefs occurs to him, yes, but isn't important. It's important not to slip because these marble floors might as well be covered in butter when wet, and it's important to figure out what he's going to say to Kaylie once he reaches her—ask her out? Ask for her number?—but once he does arrive at the kitchen, intending to take a deep breath and say... something... he realizes Kaylie is currently deep in conversation with—what the fuck—Austin Tucker, the Olympic gold-medalist who beat him at Nationals just a few months ago, and Kelly Parker, gymnastics' official bitchiness personified.

"I'll stay with Nicky," Parker is offering, and Nicky notices a quick narrowing of Tucker's eyes before all three turn to acknowledge him. Kaylie performs a double-take as her eyes survey his almost naked body, and abruptly, the awareness of how stupid he must look hits him full force.

"Hi. I thought you were going to swim for a bit longer," Kaylie says, filling the uncomfortable silence. Nicky is about to turn around and go up to the guest room, but hesitates when he sees Kelly Parker sweep his body with appreciative eyes. It's sort of... uncomfortable. It was really flattering when Kaylie did it, though. "No, stay," Kaylie urges when he does turn around. He almost balks when she takes his hand in hers, completely ignoring that it's not quite dry yet, and leads him to a different corner of the kitchen. "I have to go somewhere with Austin," she begins to explain, gazing so deeply in his eyes with worry and concern, that he forgets that there's a couple of inches between them—he feels like they are at eye-level. "But Kelly Parker is going to stay with you. It's just a few hours."

"You know them?" he asks, genuinely curious. How she managed to befriend an Olympic gymnast is a real head-scratcher.

Kaylie purses her lips, for a short instant looking cornered. "Well. Yes. Sort of. I know Kelly Parker, of course. Austin Tucker is... an acquaintance..." She clears her throat and with what looks to be an unconscious gesture, raises her hand and brushes a batch of his damp hair that was sticking to his forehead. "I'll be back in about four hours or so."

He's not sure he understands half of what she's saying, because her touching his forehead and hair like that is really distracting.

"How do you tame this?" she asks with an amused smile, staring at his hair as she attempts to pat it down.

Nicky laughs, for no other reason than because the sight of her smiling once again produces a pleasant effervescence in his chest. "I don't. I gave up on it a long time ago."

"Look, I'm making horns," she grins lively, and he watches her happily stand on the tips of her toes as she continues to sculpt his hair as she fancies. "And now you have a mohawk."

"Are you aware that my hair isn't play-doh?" he asks teasingly, and she slowly lowers herself back to flattened feet and releases a sound very closely resembling a giggle.

"I was just about to do a really nice pyramid but I guess your hair is too good for that," she retorts lightly, throwing him a challenging look, raised eyebrows, crossed arms and all.

"You can do all of that when I'm not standing half-naked in your kitchen."

"That's... a bit more than half, actually," she laughs, eyes examining his body for a quick second while he blushes. "Not that I'm complaining."

Surprised, Nicky's eyes immediately snap to her face, guiltily embarrassed by her comment. "So that was it? That's how you flirt?"

"Well, that _was_ lame, but I couldn't give you the karate line about your body kicking because you've already taken it."

Her bold, confident response leaves him watching her with amazement, almost gawking.

Damn. This girl...

What he wouldn't do to be the guy that gave her the ring...

"Kaylie! We're gonna be late!" he hears Tucker yell out from the house's lobby entrance.

"I'll be right there!" Kaylie calls back, then turns to him with a warm smile. "I almost forgot to tell you. Ike took a closer look at some charts from your brain and decided that it'd be best to perform your follow-up surgery tomorrow morning."

"Is my dad going to be here?" he asks, suddenly a lot less focused on how much he wishes she were his girlfriend, and instead wholly immersed in questions about his condition; questions that he hasn't had answered because everyone has been treating him like some porcelain doll, like the smallest amount of new information will make his brain implode or something.

"No, he'll be in his flight back to the States, though, so he'll see you afterwards."

Oh, well. Nicky figures that's the best he's going to get, and doesn't press her for any further details, like why, for an example, a surgery is needed in the first place. He sustained an injury to his head—yes, that he knows, but what kind of injury? How? Why do things seem... not right, most of the time?

"So I'm staying with Kelly Parker for four hours?" he asks, instead of all the other questions flooding his mind.

"She's not that bad," Kaylie assures him quickly. "I actually think..." Suddenly, she frowns, deep in thought. "I think you two might get along really, really well."

She sounds worried. Is she jealous? Is she?

A slow smile takes over his face, heart pounding excitedly, all thoughts about the surgery gone and replaced by thoughts of her. "You don't need to be jealous. I won't employ my extraordinary flirting skills on her."

That was meant to be a joke, and she does chuckle in response, but the more Nicky thinks about what he just said, the more he realizes that he's betrayed how he feels about her—like other girls won't compare. He might as well have spelled out that he's hers and she can do with him whatever will please her; what he did, after all, was promise that he's not going to give another girl any attention. It's a very vulnerable position to be in, admitting that he does sort of have some budding feelings for her. And these feelings crept up on him, didn't they? One day she was just Kaylie Cruz, and after his injury and hospital stint, WHAM! She's KAYLIE CRUZ.

He's so absorbed in his own musings that it takes him a few seconds to look at her, and search for her reaction. She's smiling, faintly, like maybe she's not sure he means what he said. But he's not going to continue to dig himself into a grave and explain that yes, he meant it and he does like her.

"You don't know her," is all she mumbles, before giving him one last parting smile, and departing to meet up with Tucker and Parker. He hears some unintelligible murmurs, and then the door opening and closing. A second later, Kelly Parker has made her way to the kitchen and is leaning her shoulder against a wall, ankles and arms crossed, while Nicky is still digesting lingering images of Kaylie's hesitant smile before she left.

"Nick Russo." It's just his name, but the way she says it... sounds like something exciting; an alcoholic drink or a sexual position. She's very, very different from Kaylie, who's always a bit awkward and self-aware. Kelly Parker carries herself like she has no doubts about anything, the kind of girl who's always known who she is and what she looks like and is capable of—that toddler that stepped into the sandbox like she owned it.

"Hey," he greets, attempting to hide his partial nakedness by standing behind the kitchen island. "I don't think we've ever really met."

"Yeah, I don't think so, either. But you know what? I feel like I already know you."

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone, the next chapter is the last one I have to rewrite, and the story is almost at its conclusion, so many thanks to everyone who's stuck around this long and gave my little story a chance. Your reviews mean a lot more to me than I can try to describe here. =) Oh, and the flirting exchange between Kaylie and Nicky was inspired by a similar scene I read in one of my all-time favorite Glee fanfics. Glee (and Finn/Quinn) has been keeping me alive while Make It or Break It takes its sweet time getting back to our televisions :D**


	13. Don't forget me

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who kept reading and reviewing this story during its hiatus. Your support brought me back and I can't thank you enough. The first part of this chapter focuses on Kelly Parker's thoughts, so I'm sorry in advance to those who despise her (I can relate, because I used to lol). Now, on to the story!**

* * *

Kelly Parker had never been the sentimental type. She had been accused, in fact, of not having any emotions at all, and she found that that sort of reputation suited her just fine. If everyone wanted to call her honesty "bitchiness," then so be it. If they were that sensitive to minor taunts, then they deserved to lose. The world was so simple when you reduced it to that—the strong versus the weak, and her against everyone else.

The wrench in her flawless philosophy had always been Kaylie Cruz. With all this memory loss business, she's sure the girl doesn't remember when they first met, but Kelly still does, and it's as clear as it has always been. They were eight, and they were spending their summer at the best gymnastics camp in the west coast. Even back then, Kelly could recall having something of a keener intellect than everyone else, like a sort of x-ray vision that made people's weaknesses highlighted. Beth Kolov was always fidgeting, and given to throwing up whenever there was a mere mention of her involvement in any competition. Amber Williams had undiagnosed Tourette's and was always spewing racist, offensive insults when she got nervous. Lauren Tanner couldn't stand not to be the center of attention. Payson Keeler was the most antisocial person in camp. And Kaylie Cruz... was confident, like Kelly, but didn't assert it. She had an easier time controlling her temper than most girls, like Kelly. But when the counselors surveyed all the girls and decided on their problem areas, Kaylie Cruz never got lumped with Kelly, even if they were almost exactly the same. Strong on floors and bars, not so strong on beam, decent in everything else.

Yet they were never in the same group; never really talked. Kelly always thought that they could have been friends back then. Kaylie Cruz was strong like her, and they could be allies against all the weaklings. Years later, when camp was a distant memory and they met again, this time in a state juniors competition that every year was dominated by the two long-standing rivals—Denver Elite and the Rock—Kelly recognized that any chance at friendship was long gone now. Kaylie was the enemy. And with one well-placed taunt ("nice beam, Cruz. If the NGO ever decides to widen the beam a couple more inches, I'll let you know and maybe you won't be pathetic in that one?"), it was on.

Nowadays she can't quite pin down what she feels for Kaylie. They became friends a few years ago, as Kaylie was the only one of the Rock girls that wasn't a complete bitch and agreed to set differences aside when it came time to join forces and win a competition in the name of their country. They went to the Olympics together, and medal'ed there too. Somewhere between these gymnastics events there were heartfelt-conversations and feelings shared and laughs exchanged, and one day she woke up and Kaylie was her best friend. A best friend who called her everyday. Who arranged sleepovers. Who somehow convinced her other friends to play nice. Who sent her pictures of the dress she wanted to buy, followed by a text calling her an asshole for not tagging along in her shopping afternoon and helping her pick a good outfit in person. A best friend who didn't care that Kelly rolled her eyes at everything, and couldn't help insulting her from time to time. A best friend who liked that side of Kelly that even Kelly hated—the really dark side of her, spread out in the corners of her mind where she hid all the hopeless parts of her that her horrendous mother had damaged.

But where Kaylie unabashedly gave herself whole to this friendship, Kelly had reserves. Of course. Because she doesn't just build walls around her—she is a wall. There's really not much to elaborate on that. And that's why she can't tell what she feels for Kaylie most of the time. Why is she willing to lay her life for her, but still can't quite...

Well, it's not jealousy, is it, because she knows what that looks like, and this wasn't it. This is more like a reluctant sort of admiration, because the way it looks to her, everyone she ever liked ended up liking Kaylie better. She understands that, in part. Kaylie is a happy, happy, person; infectiously nice and...what's the word? "Sweet"? Well, whatever she is, it hooked people and pulled them in until everyone she knew worshiped in the shrine of Kaylie. The mere thought of someone being nice for the sake of being nice, and being selfless to people who would never return the favor, always got Kelly scoffing with disdain. She knows better, is what she tells herself. But it works for Kaylie, doesn't it? And the more she studies her best friend and sees her through other people's eyes, especially the boys she's been involved with—the less Kelly feels comfortable in her own skin.

It is an uncomfortable feeling, to always be the second person, always walking through a place that's already marked by a girl before her, and that's what she's had to deal with during all 3 of her major relationships. Nicky, Carter, Austin—all boys that Kaylie managed to catch first, boys who seemed like they would always like Kaylie more because they liked her first. Boys whom Kaylie wounded, and now Kelly could tend to the scars.

She wondered, just a few months ago, whether this is her fate; picking up the guys Kaylie threw away. Trying to be better than her in their eyes. Trying to avoid comparisons with her. Hoping not everyone in her life will pick Kaylie over her.

And this brings her back to this moment. This moment, where she's watching a shirtless, wet Nicky in Kaylie's kitchen, rendered helpless by amnesia. It's so, so easy to flirt and pretend this is how it was when they first met and Kaylie hadn't completely wrapped her roots around him.

"You know what? I feel like I already know you."

She doesn't love Nicky anymore. She'll lie if she says she never did, but now Austin is like a sun that never sets, and she breathes and lives and revolves around him, but she can't help this.

This is a necessary experiment. She needs to know if she would have mattered any to Nicky if she had gotten to him first. She just needs to know.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" Kaylie hears Austin ask, and that snaps her out of her intent staring out the window. "You look worried."

Kaylie isn't sure, exactly, what she had been thinking of. Probably Nicky, by the lingering ache in her chest, but she's not going to tell him that. "Nothing... well, the photoshoots. And how long it'll take for this thing to start showing," she adds, motioning to her general abdominal area. "I'm already three months. And it just looks like a pouch depending on what I'm wearing." That comment is meant to have at least a touch of self-deprecating humor, but Austin looks so serious that she wonders whether she's now incapable of joking. The uneasiness in her stomach makes their large modified Land Rover look smaller, like its windows have become tiny slits of light and scenery.

Austin clears his throat, and Kaylie notices him watching her carefully, nervously. "I know you were thinking about Nicky."

She should be past the embarrassment of being obvious about things, but she's not there yet, and is pretty sure a blush is giving her away. "Maybe I was."

"What's going on with you two anyway?" Austin seems sincerely baffled, and that melts her into an involuntary smile.

"He has the operation scheduled already." she murmurs the explanation, a fact that Austin already knows but she feels the need to remind, "and until then, I just have to make sure he doesn't remember anything. That he won't remember me."

Austin's scoff catches her off-guard, and the way he shoots her a look of kind disbelief. "He'll remember you. I think he's really, really close to remembering you already."

Fuck. Has he picked up on something she hasn't? "What! What makes you think that?"

Leaning forward and taking a quick glance out the window before speaking, Austin surveys her sympathetically. "I think no matter how many times he forgets about you, he'll always end up falling for you." Kaylie's heart slows down to languid, aching beats, and for a long, suspended moment, her body feels no need to breathe. "He's already got it pretty bad, and he's only known you for a few days since this last amnesia thing, right? He's gonna remember you. He's gonna remember that he keeps falling for the same girl over and over again."

A wave of love for Nicky knocks her lungs back into function and she sighs heavily, almost overwhelmed. It's not Nicky telling her this, but it feels true to her. It feels real, like an idea she can touch. That even when she forgot Nicky, all she needed was a second to look at him, look at the hair and the smile, and she was drowning in him again.

* * *

"One hundred and forty-seven, one hundred and forty-eight-almost there, Nick! One hundred and forty-nine," Nicky pants with effort and lowers himself for the last time under the crushing weight of Kelly Parker's body sitting on his back while he performs push-ups. "One hundred and fifty! Very good!" Kelly jumps off his back; immediately, he lies down on the floor and takes a moment to cross his arms over his face and catch his breath. They made some small talk after Kaylie and Austin Tucker left, and on the way from the kitchen to the very large living room she had sprung this dare on him—a hundred and fifty push-ups with her added weight—so he had figured he might as well accept the challenge since there was nothing else for them to do. "I didn't know you had it in you, Russo."

"Well, I told you I could do it," Nicky breathes out, and feels Kelly place a warm hand on his chest. A strange, familiar sensation burns in the area she's touching, and he's wondering why his body is reacting so strangely to Kelly, when suddenly, like a movie playing on his closed eyelids, he watches a burst of image in his mind, like a paint blotch, or a frame from an over-exposed film—Kaylie, smiling coyly and talking something he can't hear. There's a sea of sunlight behind her, but all he can see is her smile, as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and the abundance of light blurs out her face in warm brightness. He wants to hear what she's saying, so, so badly. It feels so important. He can't make out where she is, or whether she's really addressing him, but the smile is contagious and sweet, and fantastically sexy. It makes his heart thump so much harder than he's used to, and his body is flooded by a relaxing mix of calm and happiness. The moment is brief, and the blotch of image fades to black, but then his head is hurting, and Kaylie's smile is like a tattoo in his mind now, a part of his brain, and he can't unsee it. But he doesn't want to unsee it; in fact, he wishes the images would come back again, and maybe this time he could figure out what she's saying, and watch that little smile widen with the sunlight. He wants to tuck that strand of hair for her behind her ear. He wants to be there, in that moment.

He blinks several times, then frowns. What the hell was that? It felt like a memory, something he's seen before, but it's not.

He might have really overdone the push-ups if he's hallucinating and getting headaches.

"You okay?" Oh, right; Kelly Parker is still here, and her hand is still on his chest. He opens his eyes and his eyes focus on the hand, like it's a foreign object in his space. He briefly wonders whether he would be as indifferent if Kaylie's hand had been the one there.

"Yeah, I'm all right," he replies, and stands up with a grunt. He's shirtless and is still only wearing his swimwear from before, and now it feels inappropriate, like he shouldn't be on display like this in front of a stranger. "I'm gonna take a shower and change."

"No, just put this on," Kelly instructs instead, and, grinning easily, passes him a well-worn shirt that he remembers Kaylie left for him on the kitchen island. He complies, then shifts uneasily when he realizes that she's only about three feet away from him. "Are you hungry? I am indeed the perfect woman, because aside from looking like this," Kelly winks and steps closer to him, completely distracting him with her flowery perfume, perfectly combed hair, and wide, engaging green eyes, "I also have mad skills in the kitchen. My omelet is the stuff of legend."

Nicky blinks quickly as she makes her way to the kitchen with one last inviting grin. He closes his eyes for a moment and remembers Kaylie's fascination as she played with his hair.

"_Are you tired? Because you've been running through my mind all day."_

When he opens his eyes and watches Kelly shuffle around the stove, something snaps inside him and with determination, he treks to where she is and stands beside her, gathering his wits and the way he should ask what he needs to ask.

"You okay, Nick?" Kelly inquires, carefully cracking an egg and pouring its contents onto a pan. He doesn't reply, choosing instead to watch the egg fry slowly, sliding and spreading, and changing colors. "The egg is not that fascinating, Nick," Kelly laughs, a nice, free laugh he's not sure he's ever heard before. "What's on your mind? You can tell me." There's some sort of intimacy they seem to have, like he really can trust her, even though, to be honest, he doesn't like her and has only heard bad things about her.

But he decides to trust her and asks what's been bugging him for what feels like his lifetime. "Do you think I have a chance with Kaylie?"

"What?" Instantly, Kelly's smiles and grins and confident swagger evaporate into hardened disbelief.

"Does she have a boyfriend?"

Her disbelief, mixed with shock and dread, seems a bit exaggerated. "_What_... why are you asking?"

"When she was at the hospital that night I was there," he explains impatiently, hoping she'll just answer his question without interrogating him any further, "she had a ring on. She said some guy gave it to her, that she likes. But then I think she maybe kind of likes me too?"

"Likes you _too_?" The disbelief is still there, but somewhat softened by what Nicky thinks is sadness. She certainly looks like her sparkling humor has deserted her.

"Yeah, kind of. Maybe. I don't know—" He's a bumbling idiot now; he knows, but his question hasn't been answered yet, and he's not sure what Kelly wants to hear in order to supply him with that information. "I just... if she has a boyfriend I'll lay off. But if she doesn't, and that ring is just a random ring and there's no guy, then I think I have a chance, and should go for it, you know?"

"You don't even _know_ her," Kelly says, and the way she's not looking at him, but instead is concentrating on the countertop where she laid her hand, tells him she's not really talking to him. "And you still like her."

"Parker, I've known her since we were kids—well, not really knew her, more like saw her around a lot—" he feels it necessary to explain, but she waves his words away like they're mosquitoes pestering the air surrounding her.

They're silent, as Kelly seemingly mulls something over and Nicky watches her far-away stare with bewilderment. I mean, really, he's asking himself, what the fuck is going on? What is she talking about? Or rather, what isn't she telling him?

"It wasn't me," Kelly interrupts the silence, and he immediately straightens, his attention perked, "it was never something I did." Finally, she looks at him with a bare smile. "You were always going to like her, no matter what happened between us."

"Kelly." WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, he mentally berates, but takes a deep breath and says, "I think you should be a little clearer."

"Do you believe some people are kind of... I don't know," she sighs a little bit, and that's when he notices that her usual fiery confidence, that one that simultaneously hypnotizes and scares people around her, has been replaced by an easy-going looseness that makes her seem like an entirely different person. "Like they're fated or something. Like they can forget each other and be strangers, but they're gonna make their way back to each other anyway?"

Huh? Either she's high on something or he's extra slow today.

"Uh... I'm not... sure..." he's attempting to reply, when they both turn to the living room at the sound of its door opening. Immediately, Nicky's heart jumps to his throat.

Kaylie.

What should he do? Ask her out? No—too forward. Ask for her number? Her e-mail? Casually mention her boyfriend and hope she'll deny she has one?

"Hi, guys." It's her. It's Kaylie, coming into the kitchen, smiling warmly, and oh my God, he's paralyzed in place and he can't breathe and he's such an idiot he's going to pass out and she'll never even look at him again and how come he can do a super hard routine on the rings but can't even stop staring at her or say something that isn't lame—

"Is he okay?" And goddamn now Austin Tucker is beside her and even though Kaylie was smiling at him before, she now looks worried and why is he still frozen like this if he knows now that he'll never have the guts to ask her out and wow he really misses that time when he wasn't an idiot and just thought about his sport and not about girls and Kaylie Cruz was just a random brunette whose name was always popping up in the locker room and that's all she was to him unlike right now when it's like she's some disease in his brain—

"_I know what you came here for. I had a feeling you'd do this before the Olympics started. So... out with it."_

"_Sir, let me just say... that I love your daughter. Always have. And I know I always will. I'm not going to hurt her. And I'll do everything I can, all my life, to make sure nothing hurts her either."_

"_Damn it, Russo. As a father, I want to punch your perfect little teeth down your throat. But as a man, I understand. And I hope for the best. I hope and wish you make her very happy. She's my little girl, you know? Have you told her mother yet?"_

"_Not yet. Tomorrow. Before we pack for the Olympics."_

"_Good luck, son. I have to warn you though. You hurt my kid in any way, you break her heart, and you'll be a very, very dead man."_

"_I... believe you. Thanks, sir."_

The ringing. Holy fuck, the ringing in his head. Is so. Damn. Loud. Like something's drilling his brain and... __

"What's wrong with him?"

"Oh my God, Austin. We have to take him to the hospital!"

He's on the floor, clutching his head; it's gonna fall off or something. It's being spliced open, and maybe there's blood everywhere, there's gotta be because there's no way it hurts this much and _RRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNGGG._

"Call an ambulance!"

"Fuck that! Kaylie, start the car!"

_._

* * *

She hates hospital food. God, what's wrong with serving good ol' Campbell's soup instead of this "scaryaki" monstrosity available in the waiting room?

She only left Nicky's side when she received a call on her cellphone from Nicky's dad, who just landed at LAX airport and is en route to the hospital after having received news from Ike that his son was recently admitted. Kaylie isn't sure just how much he knows about what's going on; had he been told of the amnesia problem and what kind of timeline they're in right now? The subjects he has to avoid? The things he has to pretend never happened because to Nicky, they really have not?

Sighing, she slumps down on a chair and closes her eyes. She's exhausted. Truly sleep-deprived, and she knows she's moody and probably looks like death.

"Kaylie?" At the voice calling out her name, she turns and even if she has never seen the man in person or even a picture of him, she can tell this is William Russo, Nicky's strict, distant father.

"Mr. Russo, how are you?" Kaylie greets, unable to force any sort of enthusiasm into her voice. Her words consequently sound not only tired but entirely indifferent as well.

"I... am not sure if you remember me." His grave voice and gloomy smile are identical to Nicky's, but his eyes aren't warm like his son's. The gaze is hollow. "Ike tells me you both sustained neurological damage."

It's a relief that he realizes how far behind she is, and won't expect her to be comfortable around him, her... father-in-law. (The word is weird to her, for some reason.)

"Yes, we both did. Nicky is just a lot less stable than me. My memories are from 2010. His memories were from 2010 when we first injured ourselves. Then he was in an accident at the studio lot and now his memories are from even before that... they're from 2009."

Mr. Russo nods, his entire face stern as though engraved in stone.

"When is the surgery?"

"It was scheduled for tomorrow, but they'll be doing it tonight instead. They said some part of his brain is, um, inflamed," Kaylie stammers a bit because medical terms are not her forte, "and they can't wait for it to be stabilized."

Another curt nod, another miniscule smile, and Mr. Russo takes a seat beside her.

"Soup?" she offers in a small voice, suddenly aware of how silent the waiting room is. This is going to be awkward, isn't it?

"It was terrible when I was a resident and had no choice but to eat those," he tells her, like a funny anecdote.

Kaylie smiles. There's a sense of humor buried beneath that marble countenance. He really is just like Nicky. Maybe it won't be awkward. "It's still terrible, sir."

"Good. Some things should never change."

* * *

"All right. He's lapsed back into consciousness so we'll be performing the surgery in a few minutes," Ike announces to the waiting room, now occupied not only by Kaylie and Mr. Russo, but by Kelly and Austin, and Payson as well. They've had to gloss over the memory loss part when Payson joined them, although Kaylie couldn't even remember now why they had been hiding this in the first place. Even her mother and father had called within the last hour to inquire on his condition, and she's lied to them too and blamed everything on the accident in the parking lot. "Kaylie?"

Oh. She's been distracted by her own thoughts and hadn't heard most of what Ike had just said. "Yes?"

"Do you wanna see him for a bit?" Ike is tentative, and Kaylie darts a quick look around only to realize that everyone is staring at her nervously. Then she looks at the sort of reflective glass surface on the snack dispenser a few feet in front of her, and of course everyone is worried—she does, indeed, look like shit. Pale, with deep-set eyes and hair that is in disarray, and not the on-purpose messiness her show hairdresser likes to create.

"Yes." She stands and attempts a smile. "I wanna see him."

Kaylie barely registers the journey from the waiting room to the hospital bed on which Nicky is hooked to a few cables and tubes. In the room next door, she can hear them setting up for surgery, and suddenly she's hyperventilating and feels like the weight in her chest is going to make her faint.

"Hey, Kaylie." When Ike said he was conscious, he was exaggerating. Nicky is sort of conscious. Sort of. His voice sounds like it's coming from a room several feet down the hall, his eyes are only half-open, his movements are slow, and he's just lying there...

Don't cry. Don't cry.

"Hey." She swallows hard when she hears how stuffy and nasally she sounds. "How do you feel?"

"No one is telling me what's going on. What is this surgery for? Where's my dad?"

When she approaches his bed and stands by his side, he actually smiles, which jumpstarts her heart a little.

"Don't worry, okay? You'll be fine," she assures him, almost falling over when he brushes a finger against her hand.

"Hey," he repeats, and is it just her or are the sedatives kicking in even more now? "I have to ask you something."

"Okay. Ask away."

Nicky licks his lips and watches her through his groggy gaze; she can tell how much he's struggling to stay awake.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

_Huh?_

"What was that?" she asks, sure she's hearing things.

"Do you have..." he trails off, like his thoughts are blurry, but blinks a few times then clears his throat weakly, "because I'd like for you to go out with me sometime."

Kaylie's breath hitches in her throat. She can't decide whether to be excited—Austin was right! He likes her again!—or panicked because, well, this is her husband. Asking her out.

"On a date?" she says incredulously, brushing aside his grin to shake her head. "You don't even like me." You don't even _remember_ me, she amends in her mind.

"I like you," he replies easily, and it looks to Kaylie like he only has a few moments left of consciousness before the meds take over. He's drifting far away. "I like everything about you."

And now she wants to cry for different reasons.

Kaylie squeezes his hand and uses her free hand to smooth away some loose strands of hair off his clammy forehead. She was miserable before, but just being alone with him for a few minutes makes her entire body buzz and her heart shake in her chest.

I married the right guy, she thinks with amazement.

"When you're done with your surgery," she begins softly, "and if you haven't changed your mind, I'll go out with you."

It's like he's pushed aside all the medication bombarding his body, to gather enough energy to smile so wide that her chest aches like she can't remember it ever aching. She watches him watch her, and she knows they look like idiots, grinning at each other like that, but it only makes her laugh.

"Hey Kaylie," Nicky says, and just then she notices out of the corner of her eye that they're almost done setting up and she only has about a minute left with him. The urgency makes her heartbeats speed up when she focuses back on him. "Are we still on for the flirting competition?"

"You already won that," Kaylie replies, nudging his chest lightly with her hand. "Remember?"

"Well, I have another line for you." He clears his throat again, but his voice is now consistently raspy; Ike told her the medicines would give him dry mouth and he'd probably ask for water. "You must be in the wrong place, girl. The Miss Universe contest is downstairs."

That's when Kaylie loses the fight; when it sinks in that maybe the surgery won't fix him—maybe nothing can. Maybe after this he won't remember her at all. Maybe the amnesia will worsen and will take him even farther back in his life, to a year in which they hadn't met, or back to that time when he first got to the gym and they sort of hated each other, and she'll be stuck loving him after having finally accepted that they're married with a child on the way; after finally accepting that she can't really live without him and can't wait for things to be normal so she can just spend her life with him like regular, boring married couples.

Before the tears pooling in her eyes are spilled, however, Ike steps in and gives her a signal that this is it. It's time for them to cut his brain open and hopefully mend the part of it that is defective.

Hurriedly, she leans down and kisses Nicky, softly and gently, then backs away only an inch and doesn't give him a chance to voice his shock.

"If you can help it, don't forget me," she whispers next to his ear, and he frowns and shoots her a bewildered look, but she presses on. "If things start flashing in your mind, and if... there's any choice for you, don't forget me, okay? Remember me."

She steps back and watches the nurses slide him away only a moment after that, and now, she realizes, all she has is hope.

**A/N: I'm so excited about season 3 of the show! And I'm working on a new story to carry on right after I finish this one. Thanks for all your reviews, and let me know whether hiatus has left me rusty or you can even yell at me for abandoning the story for months. I also have to give a special shout-out to FallenTeenHearts for being such a loyal reviewer and telling me, in a very nice and supportive way, to get my ass back to the keyboard and finish this story. Thanks!**


	14. Denial is not just a river in Egypt

**Chapter 14: Denial is not just a river in Egypt**

Kaylie blinks slowly, eyes blurrily adjusting to her surroundings. She's still in the waiting room, laying down sideways, completely still, on a compact couch. A very large man clad in a professional suit is stoically sitting on the other side of the room, by the doorway. She remembers his name is Jack, and he's one of her bodyguards. Apparently she has about five of them; she just never noticed. And now that word got out that famed athletes/actors Kaylie and Nicky Russo are in the hospital, accompanied by similarly famed athletes/actors Kelly Parker and Austin Tucker, the media camp out outside the structure is nothing short of ridiculous. Their PR agents have had to clarify, alongside the hospital's media liaison, that no one is dying and nothing serious is going on—Nicky's stay is related to an accident on set a week ago. Still, Kaylie's heard snippets of conversation from the nurses passing by that various magazines and gossip publications are printing stories from "sources" that Nicky has been admitted due to a possible drug overdose. It's more insulting than amusing.

She blinks again, raising an arm to rub the sleep from her eyes, and notices what woke her up: it's dawn already and there's a sun ray blasting her on the face. Her hand drops to her stomach, and she rubs that too—it's becoming a habit to touch her belly, sometimes because she wants to check that she's still pregnant, and sometimes because she just wants to feel the shape, the warmth, and how the baby moves.

"Mrs. Russo?" Jack calls out in a gruff, low voice. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

Kaylie finally gathers enough energy to sit up. "Yes, I'm fine. Where's everyone?"

"In the hotel across the street. Mr. Tucker tried to take you but you refused to leave."

Oh. She doesn't remember that at all.

"What did the doctors say about Nicky?"

"The surgery was successful and now Mr. Russo is resting."

The wave of relief that washes through her is so powerful that Kaylie feels light-headed. She closes her eyes and exhales, and it's like she's been holding this breath for a very long time. Now her body is realizing how exhausted it is; all she wants to do is sleep. On a real bed, under warm covers.

She reaches for her phone and although there are several text messages—from her parents, from her assistant, from Payson, and about twenty other people—she only selects one to read: the one from Ike.

_Went home to shower. Everything went great. Nicky needs to rest for a day or two. I'll be back at 8am. GO HOME AND GET SOME REST. I'll call you once I finish the follow-up examination._ –Ike

Kaylie walks over to the observation glass and sighs, smiling happily, when she sees Nicky soundly asleep. Her fingers linger on the glass.

"_I like you. I like everything about you."_

"Jack?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Take me home."

* * *

A short shower and small croissant later, Kaylie is brushing her teeth and preparing herself for bed. As she steps out of the enormous bathroom, a small feeling of loneliness tugs in her heart. She surveys the bedroom in front of her: soft lighting, faint flowery scent…

"_I can't believe how you decorated this room. It looks like the eighties threw up in here."_

"_I thought you'd like it! It's all… feminine and… sparkly. Like your room back in Boulder."_

"_My room in Boulder didn't sparkle."_

"_Yes. Yes, it did. And it had purple wallpaper. With pink accents. And some glittery stuff on the walls."_

"_It did not!"_

"_Denial is not just a river in Egypt, Kaylie."_

"_Fine. It might have been a bit… girly—"_

"_Ha. A bit."_

"_As I was saying, it was _a bit_ girly, but I was twelve when I got that room done. And also, it was _my_ room, I wasn't sharing it with anyone else. So I guess I'm saying that it's okay if you want to… I don't know, put some posters of cars or… sports teams… um… tools, I guess? Or—why are you laughing?"_

Another flashback, and another kick to the heart.

Kaylie lays down on the bed, dutifully enveloping herself with the luxurious blankets. It's already 7:00AM. A good night—or morning, actually—of sleep will do her well. Her eyes are trained at the ceiling, almost closing, when she hears her phone vibrate on top of the bedstand.

_-Called that big bodyguard of urs—the one who has no neck—and he said ur home already._ KP

Kelly is texting her? A content smile curves Kaylie's lips and she snuggles closer to her pillow.

-I am. Just got here. KC

-_Go to sleep!_ KP

-I was trying to, but someone who shall remain nameless started texting me. KC

-_That someone sounds like a very attractive, intelligent, and incredibly sexy person. U should b nice to whoever that nameless person is._ KP

Kaylie releases a tiny giggle.

-I'll try. How's Austin? KC

-_Snoring. Did they give u any updates on Nick b4 u left the hospital?_ KP

-No, just that he needed to rest. KC

-_How r u feeling?_ KP

-Like crap. KC

-_U looked like crap when I last saw u._ KP

-Thanks for your warm words of comfort. :) KC

-_Whenever u need it._ :) KP

Before responding to Kelly's text, Kaylie looks out to her side, and vaguely wonders which side of the bed Nicky usually sleeps on. What do they do on their free time? What names have they considered for their baby?

-_I know ur worried. But he'll b ok; he's a fighter. N it wont matter what happens, hes gonna remember u. _KP

Once again, Kaylie has to marvel that Kelly Parker, the girl Kaylie had been so sure was one of the horsemen of the apocalypse, is now her friend, a damn good one at that.

-Thanks Kelly. KC

-_Ok go 2 sleep. That nameless person will stop texting u now._ KP

It's becoming progressively harder to stay awake. Quickly, she feels her exhaustion drag her into unconsciousness.

* * *

Nicky.

Nicky.

Nicky.

Nicky…

Kaylie opens her eyes. And sees Nicky smiling down at her. Bright eyes, crooked smile, hair in disarray…

Oh my God.

Holy shit.

She's so profoundly startled that she sits up and slides back until her back hits the bed's headboard. Nicky's smile falters, but then his grin widens and Kaylie still can't remove the shocked look on her face.

"What are you doing here?" she breathes out, clutching her blankets while her heart hammers inside her chest. Something is wrong, right? Why isn't he in the hospital? Why is he smiling when there's a bandage on his temple? Has Ike already examined him? What does he remember? Isn't he in pain? Is he medicated? She turns to look at the clock on the wall—it's only 8:00AM—but when she turns back, he's sliding closer to her on the bed, momentarily distracting her with a smile so disarming and warm that she has to catch her breath and remind herself that this, his looks and the effect he has on her, is not where her thoughts should be.

But she doesn't have time to say anything, ask him any questions, or get a single word in, because he's mumbling "all these years and you still can't get used to me waking you up" and… and then he's really close, his hand touches her face and all of Kaylie's thoughts and doubts and concerns melt inside her. All he had to do was touch her—just a little touch, a tiny caress on her cheek, and it's all gone. When he finally, _finally_ kisses her (it's been so long, and goddamn, she had no idea how much she had been wanting it), that speeding heart of hers slows down, like instead of shouting Nicky's name in every heartbeat, it's just whispering it now, steadily, calmly, firmly.

She's sinking down into the mattress, and pulling Nicky down with her. She has no need for air, or sleep, or food, if Nicky is here and she has his lips and his body, and his love.

"Damn I missed you," he murmurs when he breaks their kiss and immediately places his lips on a sensitive spot on her neck that makes her entire body tingle. Her hands begin to roam his chest and back, and the few neurons in her brain still working make her wonder how in the world he got her so unbearably wound up in less than thirty seconds. The temperature in the room is so, so much higher than it's supposed to be, and she feels feverish with the way his fingers trace her skin, setting fire to every nerve ending. "I can't believe you left me in a hospital just for a little fall."

Her eyes snap open.

"All I have is a scratch on my head…" He kisses her again, and a war erupts inside of her; her mind asking all sorts of questions on why he apparently remembers her and remembers everything, except the part about not remembering anything, against her body, which wants nothing else than to rip all his clothes off. If Nicky doesn't know that he has amnesia, then… obviously, Ike hasn't talked to him. Which means he left the hospital before he was cleared… and that in turn, means she doesn't know what she can tell him.

His weight is not completely on her, as he's partially supporting his weight with his arms on either side of her body, but they're still chest to chest, legs on legs, and it's becoming increasingly hard to start forming coherent thoughts and stop touching him everywhere. Nicky's mouth descends again and Kaylie has to swallow down a moan when she feels his tongue press against the skin of her neck and collarbone.

Oh my God… she needs to stop this… they're going to have sex and he just had brain surgery less than five hours ago.

"Wait," she attempts to say, but it leaves her lips a barely audible murmur that in fact sounds more like a moan.

But it catches Nicky's attention, and he pulls away and looks into her eyes with quiet worry. "Babe, what's wrong?"

She's not quite ready for him to look at her like that; like… like she's incredibly important and he's memorizing her every crinkle and freckle. When he brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face, Kaylie has to fight a blush.

"Nothing, just… um… did they tell you anything at the hospital?" she inquires nervously. It's hard to be completely serious and businesslike about this when he's still on top of her, all glorious muscles and adorable frown, and she still feels like her body is ablaze.

"Well, I did sneak out, so it's not like they had a chance to tell me anything."

Immediately, she bolts up from her lying position. "What!" This is when her hormones settle down at last and she's able to stop thinking about sex, and focus on the situation at hand instead. "You sneaked out?"

"Kaylie, come on, it was just a little fall," he chuckles as he sits up as well and distractedly places a hand on her thigh. Kaylie blinks a few times and takes a deeper breath than necessary—_stop thinking about sex!—_in order to continue her line of questioning and ignore the hand on her thigh. "Why are you mad? You took your shots this week, right?" He reaches out and rests his hand briefly on her belly, sending an oddly pleasurable sensation through her body. "Wait… how long was I out?"

Crap. What should she tell him? He thinks he bumped his head yesterday, when in fact, their head injury happened over a month ago.

"Not… long." She almost winces when the words leave her. Wow, way to be articulate there, Kaylie. "That doesn't matter. You hurt yourself, Nicky. I have to take you back to the hospital right now."

"No, hold on, he protests, and grabs her hand to keep her still. Kaylie swallows hard because she's sure that if he starts to smile at her again, and if he kisses her and touches her, she won't be able to put up much resistance this time. "I made you something."

How long ago, exactly, did he break out of the hospital? "What kind of something?"

"Stay here for a minute," he grins, then leans forward and gives her a quick kiss that against all reason, sets her heart galloping again. Mentally, she berates herself. Yes, sex with him is awesome, and yes, she misses him and she's hormonal and he's hot, but she should be able to control her lust, dammit.

Nicky steps off the bed and dashes to the door, smiling at her before exiting the room. A minute later he's stepping back in, carrying an enormous tray of food that he settles at the foot of the bed, beaming at her with pride and satisfaction, unaware of the powdered sugar smudged across his cheek.

Pancakes. He made her pancakes. There are fruits, sure, and milk, juice, and cookies, but what he made her were the pancakes, judging by their hilarious misshapes.

"What do you think?"

She finds it hard not to laugh at his eagerness and the way he makes it obvious, with no embarrassment at all, how much he wants her to like his gesture.

"I think you don't know how to make round pancakes."

She yelps when he jumps beside her on the bed and pins her down, attempting to look mad even though he's laughing.

"I think you're ungrateful," he whispers in her ear, his breath leaving goosebumps in her skin.

"And I think one of them looks like Africa," she whispers back, gently wiping the sugar off his cheek and then, not quite registering what she's doing, leaning up and pressing her lips against his. Whereas all their past kisses have been desperate, awkward, or a step on the way to sex, this one is different… it's a kiss of relief. This Nicky is her husband—he chose her. She doesn't have to worry that he's stuck with her and a child because of circumstance. And experiencing what he's like as her husband, unafraid to be vulnerable, she wonders whether it's always like this. Easy banter, a heavy attraction that she can't fight, and this feeling of appropriateness, of belonging, of being at the right place at the right time. All the insecurities she has, that he prefers Payson, that he's not over Kelly, that he never wanted to be a father, are all paling and fading. If this is what it's like, and she can just love him without constantly second-guessing herself, then she doesn't want to go back to 2010. "Nicky, you're staring."

"I love you so much," Nicky states brightly, causing a small tremor in her chest. "Even though you hate the perfectly round pancakes your perfect husband made you."

Perfect husband.

_Husband._

She can't remember him as her husband. Not the wedding, not the first night, not the first year. She remembers the before, and the nowadays. There's a four-year gap in her memory that he doesn't know about; blank pages in the middle of a book.

Her phone begins to ring and she rises from the bed just enough to take a peek at the screen and see Ike's name flashing and blinking. It's past 8:00AM; the hospital staff has looked for Nicky everywhere but can't find him.

"Hey, it's Ike. Want me to answer it?"

"Nicky…" She forces herself to be brave. "Look at me for a little bit?" She's had to lie, omit, and pretend this whole time and there hasn't been a moment when she was completely honest with him. "Nicky… there are some things you need to know. About yourself, and about me. The fact is… I don't really remember you."

* * *

**A/N: This is a shorter chapter than usual, but it was basically a fluff pie with a fluff topping and a side of fluff, so I hope that makes up for the length. Once again, thanks for all the reviews. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or suggestions. The story is almost over so aren't you glad you stuck around? :)**


End file.
